


NSFW

by Rearviewdreamer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Based off of the NSFW storyline from Shameless, Bottom Louis, M/M, Professor Louis, Teacher-Student Relationship, Things I write purely for my own selfish entertainment, Top Harry, Uni student Harry, clearly I was obsessed, happy ending of course, secret meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8265080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/pseuds/Rearviewdreamer
Summary: Harry thinks that his day couldn't possibly get any worse when he leaves the advising office and is forced to take a boring art lecture of all things, but he soon finds out that his entire schedule being dropped and pretty much ruined for the semester might have been the best fuck up that life has ever handed him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the tags, I couldn't let go of this student/professor storyline in Shameless and started writing it on a whim. I wasn't going to post it, but the wonderful FallingLikeThis(Zayniam) convinced me otherwise! Hope you love it as much as I'm enjoying writing it Xx

Harry knew this day was fucked as soon as he woke up this morning and tried to print his syllabus for his critical theory lit class and ended up with a big flashing pop-up that claimed he’d signed up for no such course; actually, it said that he’d signed up for no courses at all this semester. Since then, he’s thrown on a wrinkled t-shirt and pair of jeans from his dorm room floor and ran across campus to the advising office where he was handed a number for the long line of other students who apparently got kicked out of their courses just like him.

 

It takes hours of useless standing around and then sitting down in front of a woman named Laurel who looks like she hates working for the scheduling and advising office more than Harry hates being there in the first place before his courses are recovered. Well, most of them. He was able to get back into all of them except the one for critical theory because apparently the other fifty thousand people who got here before him have already filled it to capacity. Laurel gave him a list of other courses he could take this semester in order to keep his credit hours and not one of them pertains to his actual degree. He’s going to be wasting a time slot regardless of which class he chooses to take so he goes with the one that sounds like the least amount of work: Themes in the History of Contemporary Art.

 

He bids Laurel farewell and speeds off in the direction of the fine arts building even though he’s never set foot in it during the entire year he’s been at the university. It’s an older building, and the corridors are so confusing that Harry’s sure that whoever labeled and numbered the classrooms must’ve been stoned.

 

By some miracle, he finally finds classroom number three-thousand-forty-one. It doesn’t even surprise Harry that room three-thousand-sixty-nine is right beside it.

 

He tries to sneak into the room unnoticed as he quietly opens the door, but it creaks, causing people to glance up at him anyway. He gives a short nod to his peers and spots an open seat near the front. Normally, he hates sitting so close to the professors and being on display, but he’s late and he doesn’t really have much choice besides trying to come back next class.

 

He tiptoes past the professor who only paused his lecture for a beat when Harry first walked in, but he interrupts his own lesson when Harry places his backpack on the table in front of him.

 

“May I ask what you think you’re doing?”

  
The room goes still and it takes Harry a whole ten seconds to realize that the professor is talking to _him_. 

 

"Oh. Um, hello. Sorry I'm so late. I was at the advising office. The system glitched and somehow all my classes got dropped,” he explains, and the professor merely raises a bored eyebrow at him like he’s only becoming more uninterested by the second. “I'll uh, just take my seat," Harry says, sensing that his excuses are getting him nowhere with this man.

 

"Well, that would be fine  _if_  that were your seat, but as it turns out, that seat belongs to a student of mine named Christine who's not feeling well today. My class is full."

 

Harry huffs aloud when he takes a look around and sees that every other seat in the room is filled. "Well, where am I supposed to go?" Harry demands. "The class I’m supposed to be taking is full as well. I was told there was room in this one."  

 

The professor, Mr. L. Tomlinson according to his schedule, stares at Harry in amused condescension like he’s some lost puppy wandering around his classroom.

 

"I’m sorry," he chuckles, "But do you even know what this class is?" 

 

" _Yes_. It's _Themes in the History of Contemporary Art_. I assume we talk about themes, history, and art, and Laurel from scheduling told me I could be here today, so I should be on your roster _, sir_.” Professor Tomlinson's eyebrows shoot up in surprise like he didn't quite expect the boldness of Harry's answer, but liked the sharpness of it regardless. To be fair, Harry hadn’t really expected his response to be so snippy either, but he’s been running around all morning and _this_ is the class he’s supposed to be in damn it.

 

"What's your name?" Mr. Tomlinson asks, looking slightly less annoyed by his unexpected presence than he did a few minutes ago. He's not as old as Harry would've expected for a professor of art at a university like this to be. He looks even younger with his fitted slacks and open collar shirt that draws Harry’s eyes right to his golden chest and slim waist.

 

"Harry Styles. English student," he answers, trying to estimate exactly how old Mr. Tomlinson is. He can't even be forty yet.

 

The professor considers him for so long that Harry starts to feel like an idiot because everyone else is staring at him too. "Alright. Fine, Harry Styles the misplaced English student. You can sit in for today since you're already here and Christine is sick, but you’re going to have to come see me in my office after class." Harry sits down in Christine’s seat immediately, thankful that he doesn't have to sprint all the way across campus to see Laurel again. 

 

"Thank you, _so_ , so much sir. I'll be there, but um- am I in trouble for something? I told you earlier it wasn't really my fault that I was late." Nothing that has happened today has been his fault really.

 

"Oh, I know,” he confirms. “But I still haven't decided whether or not I'm going to let you stay in my class, of which you've now wasted a total of _six_ minutes." 

 

And with that, Professor Tomlinson turns his back to him and continues on with his lecture as if nothing ever interrupted it.

 

*

 

The hunt for Professor Tomlinson’s office takes a lot longer than Harry anticipated after he leaves the bathroom; another great search that took way too long. The rooms don’t follow any logical sequence, so he ends up knocking on the door with his professor’s name engraved on it nearly fifteen minutes after class dismissed.

 

Harry waits until he hears someone yell for him to come in. He steps inside the sunlit room and gawks at the sheer amount of tall art books lining the shelves.

 

“Well, if it isn’t Harry Styles.” The voice comes from Professor Tomlinson who is hard at work at his desk and who hardly even looked up when Harry walked in.

 

“Hi, again,” Harry says as he slides off his back pack. He reaches for the chair in front of the desk and the sound of wood scraping along the floor catches Mr. Tomlinson’s attention.

 

“Oh, no. There’s no need for that, Mr. Styles,” he says, finally meeting Harry’s eyes. “This won’t take long. I called advising a minute ago to check your story. It turns out that you are actually registered for my class even though my roster doesn’t show it.”

 

The relief Harry feels is instantaneous. “That’s such great news, sir. Thank you. God, I’m so glad to have that all cleared up,” he grins. It melts right off his face when Professor Tomlinson blinks up at him in confusion.

 

“You’re welcome, but I wouldn’t thank me just yet. You’re registered for my class, yes, but I don’t have room for you. And besides that, you’re not even an art student so you don’t get priority. I’m sorry, but I had to tell Laurel to add you in somewhere else. I’m sure you understand.”

 

Harry feels like he’s just been deflated of all the air in his chest.

 

The two of them stare at one another for several long beats before Harry scoffs aloud at his unapologetic expression.

 

“So that’s it? You can’t make an exception this one time and just let me take your class?”

 

“Unfortunately, no. I can’t,” he shrugs. “I am sorry, though. I can tell that you’re a sharp one. I could use a bright mind like yours in contemporary, but maybe another semester.”

 

Harry doesn’t want his flattery and he doesn’t want to be in this predicament again for another semester. What he wants is to be told that he can stay in the dumb art class that he doesn’t even need.

 

He watches Professor Tomlinson’s eyes dance along his face and then out of nowhere they take an involuntary plunge down the front of his body. He drags his gaze back up to his face and Harry catches the slight movement of his tongue running along the seam of his lips like he may have something else to say on the matter after thinking it over again, but all that comes out is, “Have a nice day, Mr. Styles. You can see yourself out.”

 

He feels like an idiot for coming here and wasting his time as he snatches up his back pack. He spares one last glance at Professor Tomlinson before wrenching the door open and storming out of his office. It slams a bit when he closes it. He meant for it to, and Harry bets the man didn’t even look up.

 

He gets half-way down the corridor before his annoyance with Mr. Tomlinson turns to anger. The last five hours of his life have made no fucking sense at all, especially the last ten minutes of it where Professor Tomlinson called him into his office, gave him false hope, and then turned him away. What was the point of even telling Harry to come to his office if he wasn’t going to let him stay? All he did was waste Harry’s valuable time which could’ve been used standing in line to see Laurel again. He can’t believe that a professor could be such an intentional dick. And then to top it all off, he could see the way Mr. Tomlinson was looking him over. He complimented Harry on his intelligence, but that’s not at all what he was admiring about him from the hungry gleam in his eye.

 

How fucking _dare_ he?

 

Harry’s not even to the end of the corridor when he makes a sudden u-turn. He finds Mr. Tomlinson’s door with ease this time and doesn’t even bother to knock before he bursts in.

 

“Do you do this kind of thing often?” Harry demands, causing the professor to frown over at him.

 

“Do I do _what_ often?” he spits. “And what the hell are you doing coming into my office like that? Shut my door.” Harry does as he says, throwing the lock as well. “I meant with you on the _other_ side of it,” his says, his eyes trailing every step that Harry takes and every swing of Harry’s hips as he approaches him.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks with a hard expression that Harry can see right through. Harry can see his pulse jumping along his neck from the way he’s clenching his jaw. His blue eyes are like daggers being aimed right at him when Harry leans in close enough to count every one of his feathery eyelashes. He shaves, but he hasn’t done so in a couple of days. Harry can tell from the soft stubble along the stubborn set of his jaw making Harry want him even more than he did in class when he bent over in those slacks to grab something out of his bag.

 

Harry says nothing, ignoring him just like he’s been doing to Harry all afternoon.

 

“What is it that you want from me exactly?” the professor asks with narrowed eyes.

 

Harry watches each curve and contour of his lips when they move and the shape of them sends a shiver down his spine and straight to his dick wondering what they might taste like. His professor notices him staring right at his mouth and hardly even breathes when Harry traces his thumb along his bottom lip.

 

“At first, I thought I wanted to take your class. But honestly, now I just want to fuck you.”

 

It’s so quiet that it feels like the air has been vacuumed out of the room. Harry can hear the stunned breath that his professor finally lets out just moments before they both move to crash their lips together.

 

Mr. Tomlinson pushes himself up from his chair to chase Harry’s mouth with so much force that they slam into one of his many bookshelves, a few lightweight books thudding to the ground at their feet. Their kisses hurt with the way Mr. Tomlinson is biting down into his flesh but it’s a pleasurable pain that has Harry moving at lightning speed to undo the slacks he’s been dying to rip off of him for the past hour.

 

He drops to his knees and holds Mr. Tomlinson still against the bookshelf before gladly wrapping his lips around his tip and sinking down until the back of his throat won’t allow him to go any further. It must feel as amazing as it tastes for him because the unmuted sound of Mr. Tomlinson's cry is so loud that someone knocks on his door in a frantic rhythm.

 

“Mr. Tomlinson? Are you alright?” comes a concerned voice from the other side of the door.

 

Harry glances up and all he sees is the thick column of his professor’s throat bobbing helplessly as he tries to speak.

 

“Y-Yeah, Emily! I’m fine. I’m just- I’m with a student…conferencing.” The professor’s eyes roll back when Harry takes him deeper and swallows around him. He slaps a hand over his own mouth to stop the new moan from escaping.

 

“Oh, Okay,” the girl says easily. “Well, there’s a letter for you in the mail room! I’ll just bring it by later!”

 

“ _Jesus_ , _fuck,_ ” he chokes out when Harry swallows around him again. “O-Okay, Emily! Great! Bye!”

 

His assistant’s footsteps echo down the corridor and as soon as she’s gone Mr. Tomlinson’s hands grip into his hair. His fingers curl into his scalp so tightly that it stings, and just when he breathes out that he’s close he shoves Harry off of him, bracing his hands against the bookshelf to catch his breath.

 

Harry’s mouth tingles as he gingerly wipes his hand over it, confused as to why nobody just finished.

 

“Why did you stop us?” In Harry’s opinion things were progressing quite nicely. Louis was close, and Harry had all intentions of getting him off and then again as he fucked him over his own desk.

 

“Because I was about to come and I have a class to teach in fifteen minutes. I can’t show up with a mess all over my front,” he explains as he zips himself back up even though he’s still rock hard. Harry feels his own dick throbbing but is too offended by Mr. Tomlinson’s insinuation that he’s messy to do anything about it.

 

“Trust me, there wouldn’t have been a drop spilled,” Harry assures him. “I know what I’m doing.”

 

“Oh, I believe you. I’m now a firsthand witness,” he smirks as he adjusts his shirt across his muscular shoulders. Harry stands to fix himself up too knowing his hair is all over the place, but not really caring.

 

Mr. Tomlinson retakes his seat at his desk and resumes whatever it is he was working on when Harry first got here. He feels a bit dumb again standing in the middle of the office with aching knee caps and a sting in the hinge of his jaw.

 

He heads for the door when the silence stretches on and becomes uncomfortable for him. He quickly slips his arms through the straps of his backpack and reaches for the door but a stern voice stops him from actually leaving out of it.

 

“If you’re ever that late for my class again, Harry, don’t bother coming back.”

 

Harry bites down on his grin and stamps it out completely before turning around with his poker face. “So, you’re saying I can stay in your class that’s already full even though I’m not an art student?”

 

“I’m saying it’ll be a tight squeeze, but I can look into having another chair added to the room. I’m also saying that even though you’re new and know absolutely nothing about contemporary art, my reading and online discussion module for this current chapter needs to be completed before tomorrow morning just like everybody else in my class. No exceptions.”

 

“ _Shit._ I don’t even have a book yet. I didn’t have time after I left advising. The book store is nearby. I’ll just head over there now and-”

 

“You mean the book store that closes at noon on Mondays? It’s already two o’clock.” And _fuck_. Harry hadn’t realized how late it was. “I can see that you’re kind of having a rough day today, so I’m willing to help you out. I have an extra book at home that you can borrow until you can get your own. You can stop by later on if you want it. Or not,” he shrugs. “Do whatever you like.” He rips a piece of paper from a notebook on his desk and scribbles down his address.

 

“Thanks. That’s very kind of you,” Harry says. “Are you being this uncharacteristically nice to be helpful to your newest student, or are you doing it because I just sucked your dick?”

 

Louis’ jaw tightens at that but then his lips purse as he tries not to smile at his cheek.

 

“Goodbye, Harry Styles.”

 

“Goodbye, professor. I’ll see you later for that book,” he says as he leaves, feeling a pair of soft blue eyes locked right on him.

 

*

 

Harry can hardly believe his day later that night when he shows up at the written address currently clenched in his right hand. 

  
  
He steps up to the lit house and rings the bell and he's a lot more nervous than he was earlier in Mr. Tomlinson's office. Harry's been inside of university staff offices plenty of times in the past but he’s never been to one of their houses. He's also never had a professor ten seconds from coming down his throat before either, but this is obviously a day for trying new things.

  
"Hi, there. Come on in," Mr. Tomlinson says when he answers the door in a t-shirt and a pair of thin joggers sitting low on his hips. "It's a little late for visiting, isn't it? It's past eleven." He widens the door for him regardless though and picks up his wine glass from the entryway table, filled to the brim with a rich, dark red.

  
"Sorry. I would’ve come earlier, but I had some work to get done for my other classes," Harry explains. 

  
"Oh, you mean the classes that you're actually qualified to be taking?" he smirks. "Wait here. I'll go get your book. Then you can do my work as well while you’re at it."

  
  
Harry watches him walk away taking a long sip of his wine as he goes. He can smell his scent in the air mixed in with his cologne from the day and Harry's body simply refuses to stay where Mr. Tomlinson instructed. He follows right behind his professor's swaying hips until they reach a large bookshelf in the living room. He looks surprised to see Harry standing there when he grabs the book he needs and turns to head back. 

  
  
"You don't listen very well, do you?" he mutters. "Here," he says handing him the textbook. "And I expect it back sooner rather than later."

  
  
"Thanks. I'll take good care of it," Harry promises before letting the book slide right out of his hand and onto the floor. He steps forward to grab Mr. Tomlinson's waist but the quiet laugh he breathes makes Harry stop. "What?" Harry frowns. Harry lets go of him, confused about what the hell Mr. Tomlinson invited him over for if not for this. Maybe he misread the situation.

  
  
"You’re quite presumptuous. Are you always this eager?"

 

"Yes, though I've never had complaints before. You definitely weren’t complaining earlier,” he mutters.

  
  
"I'm not complaining now either. I'm just saying that sometimes patience is more than just a virtue. Things don’t always have to be so quick. Earlier, you had my dick in your mouth faster than I could even blink," he chuckles.

  
  
Harry frowns again, now at the way the corner of Mr. Tomlinson’s lips curl up before taking another long sip from his glass. 

  
  
"I didn’t fuck around with sucking your dick and you’re saying that's somehow a  _bad_  thing?" The last time Harry checked, having a warm mouth on your dick is always amazing and the quicker it happens the better. "Okay, so that’s not your style. I can try again if you let me," he says, making another eager grab for Mr. Tomlinson’s waist in vain as he steps back.

  
  
"How do you feel about wine, Harry? How about I get you some. You should relax anyway. You had a rough day,” he says instead of letting Harry have his way.

  
  
Harry makes a slight grimace at his offer.

 

"No thanks. I'm not much of a wine person. I prefer beer." Mr. Tomlinson rolls his eyes at his answer like he expected him to say that.

  
"I figured as much,” he sighs disappointedly. “Yeah, sorry, but that ends tonight, my young friend. Come on, I’m pouring you a glass." He heads in the direction of his kitchen without warning and Harry hurries to follow him, his textbook for class still lying forgotten on the floor.

 

*

 

"What do you think of _this_ one?" Mr. Tomlinson asks, grinning as he hands over the large anthology.

 

Harry stares at the painting photographed on the glossy page and sees the same thing he's seen in every other painting that they’ve discussed tonight. "A bunch of colorful little squares on top of one another. It's very pretty though," he answers, smirking when his professor possessively yanks the book from his lap like he’s some sort of classless animal.

 

"You're hopeless. _Why_ did I let you stay in my class again?" he mutters as he flips to find a new page. His eyes go soft when he stops on a painting near the back of the book and traces the outline of it with his finger. "What about _this_ one?" he asks, gently placing the book back in front of him.

 

Harry studies the close-up oil painting of a young man in a leather jacket with a lit cigarette dangling from his full lips despite the light rain falling down around him. His expression is hard, mostly due to the sharp cut of his cheek and jawline. There’s a bit of angst folded into the lines of his face, but it isn’t anger that Harry feels as he stares down at the painting. He feels instantly connected to it somehow. Restless, like he wants to climb inside of it to see how exactly this man fits into the mold of his paint world because from what Harry can tell, he’s one of a kind. It's the only painting he's seen tonight that makes him feel anything at all. It’s not just a bunch of dumb shapes and colors. For him, this [one](https://goo.gl/images/u3SoSY) feels like _something_.

 

"I like this one. I can't explain why. I don’t know…” he whispers. “It’s just really nice to look at."

 

“Yeah?” Mr. Tomlinson smiles at him and then down at the painting. "You know, it reminds me a lot of you. It's in his expression, I think,” he says, tracing over the lines of the man’s strong eyebrow and hollowed cheek once more. “This one has always been one of my absolute favorites. It’s powerful. _Beautiful_."

 

He closes the book after a few more seconds of admiring the piece and then leans over him to place it on the ground on top of the other art books they've flipped through.

 

Harry doesn't know if it's the three glasses of different reds he sampled or the fact that he'd almost given up hope on Mr. Tomlinson ever wanting him again, but he feels lightheaded when his professor climbs into his lap and finally presses their lips together.

 

Harry places his hands in the dip of Mr. Tomlinson's waist to keep himself grounded as the taste of his Merlot seeps onto his tongue. He quickly reaches for the drawstring of Mr. Tomlinson's joggers, but he doesn’t get very far with it before his hand gets batted away as soon as he tries.

 

He sucks in a sharp breath when Mr. Tomlinson runs his teeth along the slope of his neck instead, and only after Harry’s veins feel like they’re on fire does Mr. Tomlinson reach for the button of his jeans.

 

Harry's achingly hard by the time he finally rolls them off and he slides to the ground to kneel between his legs. Harry closes his eyes as Mr. Tomlinson runs his hands along his thighs and sucks small bruises into his skin that feel like tiny flames stinging against his flesh.

 

He's already about to burst and he hasn't even been touched yet. It feels like hours have passed when Mr. Tomlinson finally licks out his tongue to taste him. He's never been so sensitive as when his hips move on their own accord to chase the feeling.

 

It’s already been ages, so Harry expects him to get right to it but all Harry gets are little tastes of what he wants until he's panting from how badly he needs to be sucked off. He gets exactly what he wants once Mr. Tomlinson notices how white his knuckles have gone at his sides. The sudden, tight suction around him is so good that he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from thrusting up and choking him.

 

It's the best blow job Harry’s ever received. He's never been so desperate as he is in this moment, which why he nearly chokes on his own shallow breaths when the euphoric sensation comes to a quick and abrupt end.

 

"W-Wait!” he stutters out, reeling from the pain of sudden abandonment and the loss of that sweet, sweet mouth. “Why’d you do that? Why'd you stop? Why-?" God, he was _so_ _close_.

 

Mr. Tomlinson smirks as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He picks up his glass from the table to finish the last few drops of his wine in one long swallow. At this point Harry can’t tell if his lips are pink from the wine or from sucking him off. Either way Harry is about ready to tear out his hair from how hard he still is when Mr. Tomlinson runs a teasing finger down the length of him and then removes his hand altogether, giving Harry nothing at all.

 

"Do you see how desperate you are right now?” he asks as he walks his fingers up Harry’s naked thigh. “How badly you want to feel my mouth on you again? Starved like you can’t think of anything else? How you savored it when you had it even though you had this animalistic need to come practically clawing at your gut from the inside just begging you to take control so you could finally let go?”

 

And _fuck yes._ Harry feels _all_ of those things right now. Every single one of them compounded one hundred and twenty-fold he’s so hard.

 

“Good,” he says when Harry gives a quick succession of nods. “I’m glad you’re familiar with the feeling, because _that's_  how I want you to fuck me.”

 

He holds Harry’s gaze as he crawls back into Harry’s lap and kisses him so painfully slow that Harry thinks he may pass out from how badly he wants him.

 

Harry watches with bated breath as he stands back up and removes his clothes and lets them gingerly drop to the floor right in front of him before walking away. Harry's attention is completely captivated by the sight of his naked professor. He’s beautiful; from the deep-set dimples above his arse to the thickness of his thighs where they gently brush against one another with each step.

 

He’s so distracted by him in fact that he doesn’t realize that his professor went to his bedroom _without_ him until he calls out to him from the doorway.

 

“Harry? Are you coming?” he asks. Harry is up in a flash, stumbling through the living room as he sheds the rest of his clothes to go join him.

 

*

 

The first thing Harry hears when he wakes up face down in a wad of sheets is the sound of a text book followed by a MacBook thudding against the mattress near his head. 

 

“Rise and shine. I have a class to teach in an hour and you have a discussion module due in thirty minutes that isn’t going to write itself.”

 

Harry groans aloud at the sight of his professor already dressed in a fresh pair of slacks and a thin white shirt he’s yet to button that’s exposing his bare chest all the way down to the sharp lines of his hipbones. It is too fucking early for him to be this turned on.

 

“Are you seriously going to make me do this stupid discussion thing right now?”

 

He’s exhausted. They had sex all over this room last night and when they finally passed out it was well past three in the morning.

 

Mr. Tomlinson stops buttoning his shirt to grin at him still naked where he’s tangled up in the sheets. He climbs onto the foot of the bed and slowly inches his way up Harry’s body and Harry’s skin tingles against the warm fabric of his clothes. He straddles Harry’s waist and leans down to capture his lips in a morning kiss that tastes more like toothpaste than merlot, but it sends new life coursing through his veins as he loses track of everything except the warm tongue in his mouth.

 

He bites at Harry’s left earlobe, his breath warm against his skin when he finally pulls back. “I believe you now have about twenty minutes left. I sure hope you type fast,” he smirks. He kisses Harry again and he can smell fresh cologne mixed in with the sweat from last night. Harry groans realizing that the man didn’t even shower and is still covered in their fucking scent.

 

“So, hypothetically speaking, what do I _get_ for completing the assignment on time?” Harry asks hoping Mr. Tomlinson plans to reward him with something that involves both of them being naked instead of just Harry. 

 

“Hypothetically, you _get_ to stay in my class another day. I’ll throw in a free ride to campus as well, but only because I kind of like you,” he smirks.

 

He climbs off the edge of the bed and resumes buttoning his shirt. Harry sighs as he opens the computer and logs into Mr. L Tomlinson’s discussion board; his name and the course number listed in bold across the top of the page.

 

“Hey, Professor?” Harry cracks the textbook lying next to him and feels his soul die when he sees that the first chapter is forty-one pages long. _No one_ should have that much to say about fucking art. “What’s the L for?”

 

Mr. Tomlinson stops trying to fix his sex hair in the mirror to turn and meet his eyes. “Louis,” he answers with a grin. “I don’t mind you using it, but never in class, alright? Only when we’re here.”

 

Only when they are _here_. Harry takes a break from plagiarizing his submission to smirk up at him. “So, does that mean this is officially more than a one-time thing?” 

 

Louis fights his smile but Harry sees it stretch across his face anyway before he turns back to his hair. “After last night I believe it’s technically more of a _three_ -time thing,” he corrects him, “But, we’ll see. You just keep typing,” he orders him. “And stop staring at my arse over the screen. I can see you,” he warns.

 

Harry does as he’s told, copying his assignment word for word as he grins to himself.

 

_Louis._


	2. Chapter 2

He gets dropped off a couple of blocks from campus so no one can see him getting out of Louis’ car.

 

“So, when will I see you again?” he asks, leaning inside the lowered passenger window.

 

“Tomorrow morning just like the rest of the students in my class,” his professor quips, even though he’s smirking over at Harry like he wouldn’t necessarily _mind_ seeing him before then. Good to know.

 

“Oh, okay,” Harry shrugs coolly to show that he can play along too. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later, then.” Harry stands back from Louis’ car and waves him goodbye. Louis puts the car in drive but doesn’t immediately speed off.

 

“You remember what I said about showing up on time?”

 

“Oh, _yes_ , Professor. I wouldn’t miss the intro of your class for anything. I’ll be the first one there,” he swears, causing Louis to fondly roll his eyes at him before driving off.

 

Harry sports a smirk the entire time he’s walking towards his dorm. It only fades when his two friends spot him trying to sneak in while they’re on their way out.

 

“Well, look who’s alive after all,” someone shouts loud enough for the entire student body to hear. His friend Niall takes inventory of his outfit, clearly noticing the fact that he’s been in it for way longer than twenty-four hours and looks quite impressed by that fact.

 

His friend Liam looks him over as well and raises an eyebrow. “Where are you just getting in from at this hour?” he asks curiously.

 

“Hmm? Me? Oh, nowhere,” Harry says as convincingly as he can. He’s grinning from ear to ear though so it’s probably not that hard for his friends to figure out that he’s lying through his teeth.

 

“Bullshit,” Niall says. “Quit fucking around. I want to hear the whole story of whatever went down because your smug little face says you had a much better night than either of us.”

 

Harry bites down on his grin. He had a _spectacular_ night actually. Unfortunately, because of the person he spent it with, his best friends aren’t allowed to know very much about it. The three of them don’t keep much from each other, but something tells him that Louis wouldn’t appreciate them knowing about their ‘extracurricular activities’ so Harry keeps his mouth closed and attempts to slink away unnoticed.

 

“You’re going the wrong way, you know. Classes are over there.” Liam nods towards the tall buildings on the other side of campus that the three of them usually walk to together. Harry would love to join them today as well but he needs a shower and at least an hour long nap. Maybe even two hours.

 

“Uh, yeah, about that. I think I’m only going to go to my afternoon classes,” he says climbs the steps of their dorm to escape, pretending like he doesn’t see the judgmental looks on his friends’ faces.

 

“You’re skipping lectures already? The semester _literally_ just started,” Niall laughs, once again looking quite impressed with him. Liam doesn’t look impressed. He’s the opposite of impressed. He makes a face like Harry has just personally offended him.

 

“Okay, I’m skipping _one_ lecture. Two at most and they’re easy classes. Missing one day won’t kill me,” Harry rolls his eyes. Liam and Niall nod along like he’s right when it’s very obvious they think otherwise. They don’t say anything else, though. They just give each other significant looks of amusement like Harry can’t see them. He _hates_ when they do that.

 

Niall wishes him well and tells him to have fun sleeping off his mediocre sex session before he and Liam take off for the day. He loves them, but Harry is glad to see them go. He’s tired and he’s an adult who makes his own decisions. If he wants to skip a couple of dumb classes to sleep off the night of wild sex he had with his art professor, then that’s his business. He shouldn’t have to explain himself, his actions, or the state of his hair and personal hygiene which at this point is questionable to say the least.

 

He heads up to his room and does a quick search of all of his pockets until he finds his key hiding at the bottom of one of them. Before he can make it inside of his room the door next to his swings open.

 

“Harry?”

 

“Oh, hey Tyler. How’s it going?” Harry greets his neighbor.

 

“I’m good. Heading to the library,” he answers back with a little crease between his eyebrows. “Er- Are you just getting in or something?” he asks, his eyes taking inventory of all the signs that point to _obviously_.

 

He and Tyler have spent some time doing some of the same things as him and Louis, except they only get together when there’s lots of alcohol involved and the sex isn’t nearly as mind-blowing. Last weekend at the welcome back party was one of those rare nights. They haven’t really talked or interacted much _since_ that night, but that’s generally how their relationship goes.

 

“Yeah, I’m just getting here. Late night,” Harry says in an extremely vague tone that could mean a million different things. Thankfully, Tyler doesn’t push for more details. He does consider Harry with quiet sort of interest though, no longer focused on his sex hair or the shirt that he’s been wearing for longer than he should probably admit.

 

“My roommate’s not going to be here much this week. He’s staying at his girlfriend’s,” Tyler mentions after a while. “Maybe you could stop by and hang out sometime if you’re not busy.”

Harry blinks at Tyler and his invite, knowing just as well as Tyler does that the two of them have never just ‘ _hung out’_. Harry didn’t think Tyler had ever been interested in him that way. He guesses he was mistaken.

 

“Uh, yeah. Maybe,” Harry smiles. “If I’m not busy.”

 

Tyler seems okay with that response which neither confirms or denies his invitation for…whatever it is Tyler wants from him. “Okay, cool, Harry. Well, I’ll see you later then,” he says, grinning at Harry before heading off to his classes.

 

Harry sighs when he finally walks into his dorm room and his side of it is still just as untidy and unkempt as it was yesterday morning when he had to sprint across campus to get his schedule fixed. His roommate’s side always looks good, but that’s only because he’s never here. He’s another one who prefers to stay with his girlfriend most nights which is just fine for Harry because he likes having the room to himself anyway.

 

He should be productive and clean up today though since he’s ditching morning classes. He should also get started on his assignment for philosophy that’s due in a few days. All of the annoying small things he needs to do will just have to wait, he thinks as he crawls into bed. Because first and foremost, he needs a bloody nap.

 

*

Harry sleeps a lot longer than he meant to. It’s past noon by the time he drowsily blinks at his phone and realizes that he slept through half of the English Studies lecture he had all intentions of attending. Whoops.

 

He gets up, finally showers, and miraculously by the time he’s done he somewhat resembles a respectable human again. He can still make it to the last fifteen minutes or so of class if he hurries, except he’s already blown off half of the day. There’s no reason to try and save it now so instead of grabbing his backpack to catch the last few minutes of his lecture he grabs his keys and heads straight for the fine arts building instead.

 

Harry navigates through the corridors with ease this time when he gets there, knowing exactly where he’s going. He knocks on the door marked _Professor L. Tomlinson_ and waits with his ear turned towards it until he hears a familiar honey voice asking him to please come in. Harry bites down on his grin assuming that Louis is in fact alone in his office.

 

Louis glances up at his new visitor with an inviting expression that turns to one of annoyance as soon as he realizes it’s only Harry.

 

“I thought I told you I’d see you in the morning,” he rolls his eyes.

 

Harry pays his little grievance no mind as he swiftly locks the door behind him.

 

“Oh, yeah. You did, didn’t you?” Harry says like he’s just remembered that small detail. “Well, good morning,” he smirks.

 

He enjoys watching Louis fail at pretending to not find him funny with the way he fights a stubborn grin. Louis faces his computer a second later, completely ignoring him like he’s not even in the room. Harry walks over to him anyway. He turns Louis in his chair until they’re facing one another and then takes his stubbly chin in his grip.

 

Harry likes the prickly feeling beneath his fingertips and the layer of roughness it brings when he finally brings their mouths together sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. Louis’ lips eagerly move with his, making Harry’s stomach curl with want as he chases the feeling. He frowns when Louis pulls away after giving him only a few seconds of bliss he's been craving since he woke up.

 

“Not that I don’t appreciate this completely _random_ drop in, but don’t you have class or something else you should be doing?” he asks.

 

Harry grips his fingers into Louis’ hair to guide his head back, allowing him the room to drag his teeth down the side of his neck. He savors the scent of cologne on his skin still mixed in with their scent from last night. And, _fuck_ , Harry wants to bend him over this desk so badly.

 

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” he grins against him. “Here. Kissing _you_. Who cares about class?” he smirks. Harry surges forward again but Louis turns his head just before their mouths can touch. Harry frowns at Louis’ supple lips wondering what he did or said to make them flat-line all of a sudden. “What? What did I say?”

 

“Are you seriously blowing off your classes right now?”

 

Harry pulls back at his unimpressed tone.

 

“ _No_ ,” he snaps back at him. “Well, _yes_ , kind of, but only for today,” he explains. “I was exhausted when I got back.”

 

“Oh, and I wasn’t?” Louis scoffs at his excuse. “You can’t just say fuck it to an entire day because you want to nap, Harry. That’s not how the real world works.” Harry stands up from the man before him who sounds very much like an actual professor right now. It’s scary how quick that happened.

 

“Okay, why are you giving me shit about this? They’re _my_ classes. It’s _my_ decision.” God, Louis sounds just like Liam and Niall this morning when they gave him the same lecture.

 

Louis chuckles humorlessly to himself as he runs his tongue over his freshly bitten lips. Harry would try for another kiss, but something tells him he wouldn’t get very far with it. “Yeah, that’s really sexy; Harry Styles the English student who’s been at uni for twenty years because he’d rather sleep in than get his degree like he’s supposed to. _Charming_.” Harry’s a little taken aback by Louis’ sarcasm. He was just fine with the nice, pliant Louis who was just melting at his touch.

 

And he’s _not_ going to be at uni forever. He missed half a day of class. It’s not like it’s the end of the bloody world.

 

“It’s not like I can go back and redo it,” Harry fires back at him. “What is it that you want from me?”

 

“When’s your next class?”

 

Harry glances at the clock on Louis’ desk. “I don’t know. In like, twenty minutes or something?” he shrugs.

 

“Good. Plenty of time for you to get there early. And if you hurry you can even get a seat in the front.” Louis gets up and hands Harry a book from one of the top shelves. “And take this with you too. I just posted the requirements for the first paper and I assume you still haven’t gone to the student store. You know, since you had such a nice snooze today and all.”

 

Louis smiles when Harry takes the book with a frown, wondering how the sexy afternoon he had planned for himself just turned into a harsh scolding instead. And here Harry thought he’d left his mother back home.

 

Harry goes to place the small book in his backpack until he remembers he didn’t even bring it with him.

 

“You know, you could have just said you weren’t in the mood,” Harry mumbles just loud enough for his professor to hear. Louis catches it though, smirking to himself when he walks by him again.

 

“Who says I’m not?” he quips as he takes his seat at his desk and continues prepping for his next class.

 

Harry rolls his eyes and takes the art book he didn’t even realize he needed until a minute ago and walks to the door he locked for no reason at all since no one was even naked.

 

He’s just about to leave when Louis speaks up in the soft, honey voice that Harry loves rather than the sarcastic prick version of it.

 

“I don’t mind you stopping by, Harry. Just take care of everything important that you need to do first,” he says. “This comes second.”

 

Harry nods his understanding before walking out into the corridor. He closes the door behind him, half hard because his professor is hot even when he’s being a right dick, but also annoyed because he was dead set on getting some lunch with all of his newfound free time. He guesses that’ll have to wait since he has class after all and now has less than fifteen minutes to get there.

 

 

 

He sits down with his course work that night with a long, weary sigh. It’s a good thing that Louis did send him to class earlier because his English professor gave out requirements for a paper today as well and from what Harry can already tell, his usual trick of eloquent bullshitting and hoping no one notices isn’t going to work this year. He was so surprised by the difficulty of the assignment that he started to get paranoid about the other classes he’d skipped that day so he spoke to each of those professors to ask what he’d missed. He now has a never-ending pile of course work to get done in the next two weeks and to top it all off he also has Louis’ art shit to worry about.

 

He feels overwhelmed already, but it would’ve been a million times worse and he’d be way behind had he just taken the whole day off to fuck around. It starts to dawn on him somewhere around one in the morning that maybe Louis had a point.

 

*

 

“Is this better timing for you?” Harry pants in Louis’ ear from where he’s pounding into him from behind.

 

“Y-Yeah,” Louis nods pitifully with his left cheek pressed against the dark wood of his desk. “Much better,” he breathes. “ _Perfect_.”

 

They’ve both been pretty busy since that day that Louis sent Harry off to class. It’s been over a week since then. Harry’s been working on his assignments day and night and Louis’ been just as busy grading assignments from his students in his other classes, so there hasn’t been much time for this sort of thing. All they were able to sneak in was a quick blow job a couple of afternoons ago right before Louis left for the day, but only because one of Harry’s English professors ended class fifteen minutes early and he took off running towards the fine arts building to catch Louis in time.

 

Believe it not, he didn’t actually come to Louis’ office today for sex. He was just looking for a quiet place to finish reading for philosophy since his roommate is back for the time being and the library was full. Harry honest to God came here to study, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has fantasized about fucking Louis like this since the first time he ever set foot in this office. He’s spent weeks imagining how gloriously his back would curve and how amazing it would be to hear the symphony of sounds he’d make trying to keep quiet. Even Louis, the patient man who’s always telling Harry to slow down ( _You know there’s no prize for coming first, right?_ ) had been quick to strip out of his clothes as soon as Harry informed him that he submitted his art assignment this morning, _four_ whole days before it’s even due. Harry would’ve turned it in the same hour that it was fucking assigned had he known he’d get _this_ in return.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis whines as Harry attempts to push even further into him.

 

His hands are trembling where they’re splayed near his face. Harry angles himself a little lower to hit the spot that had him moaning beside himself just a little while ago and Louis clings to the edge of the desk causing the muscles of his arms and shoulders to tense up. Harry can’t stop himself from trailing his hand down the dip of his spine all the way down to his arse, so full and round that it bounces with every move Harry makes against him.

 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he tells him. Harry has never been with someone who sets his veins on fire the way Louis does. He’s a dick a lot of the time; _most_ of the time actually. He never lets Harry get away with anything, but there are soft edges to him as well. Like right now for instance as he whimpers with a closed mouth to try and mute the sound of his building orgasm.

 

Louis wasn’t much for teasing or trying to hold out today when he bent himself over this desk, but Harry took his time opening him up anyway, working his fingers into him nice and slow just the way Louis likes it. He was trembling before they even started and now he’s practically falling apart as Harry speeds up his pace. He’s just able to choke out that he’s close before he comes all over the side of his desk with a sharp cry that Harry’s sure everybody in the building with functioning ears must’ve heard.

 

It’s too much all at once for Harry. He revels in being able to control himself enough to get Louis off first, but he’s been straddling the line of almost there for a while now. He needs the release.

 

That burning sensation clawing its way through his gut that Louis talked so much about attacks Harry with a vengeance as he folds down over his body to finish himself off with nothing but the sweet scent of Louis’ cologne mixed with his shampoo filling his lungs.

 

Harry feels as though his brain is full of static as he comes down and the only station he’s able to pick up is the image of himself still buried deep inside of his professor. _Fuck._

 

He presses a line of soft kisses along Louis’ shoulders and back. When he pulls out of him he immediately misses his warmth. It’s quiet once they’re able to catch their breaths. So quiet in fact that Harry can now hear signs of life outside the door as people leave their Friday classes to go home for the weekend.

 

“What are you doing tonight?” Harry asks they begin the task of cleaning up after themselves. He didn’t realize they’d made such a mess. Half of the things on Louis’ desk have been knocked off including an empty coffee mug that’s now lying in a million little pieces on the floor. Thankfully no one outside of Louis’ office heard the commotion and came asking questions.

 

“Not too sure,” Louis shrugs after he’s done wiping off the side of his desk. It looks good as new afterwards and not at all like Harry just fucked him into oblivion over it. “I have dinner plans around eight or nine.”

 

“Oh, okay. Cool.” It’s the weekend. It’s not like Harry expected him to be sitting at home twiddling his thumbs the whole time. “And _after_ eight or nine?” he asks with a suggestive grin.

 

Louis fights a grin of his own as they start getting dressed. He hasn’t even buttoned his slacks when he steps up to Harry and knots his fingers in his hair.

 

He pulls Harry down into a rough kiss that has every nerve ending in Harry’s body waking back up to go again. He sets flame to every fibre of Harry’s being and then pulls away once Harry’s so turned on that he’s ready to fuck him in some other fantasy spot inside his office.

 

“And?” he asks. He’s left reeling from the loss of Louis’ touch like someone just pushed him down a flight of stairs without warning. Louis adjusts the t-shirt on his shoulders so that it hangs correctly and gives him a look of approval. “You still haven’t answered my very unsubtle question about coming over,” Harry reminds him.

 

Louis laughs before turning to pick up all the ungraded papers beneath the pieces of his shattered mug.

 

He grins over his shoulder at him, catching Harry with his eyes glued to his half-naked body. “I’ll leave the door unlocked,” he promises.

 

*

 

Harry leaves his dorm room that night just after ten to start walking to Louis’ house. He gets halfway down the corridor before he accidentally bumps into someone walking in the opposite direction.

 

“Whoa, slow down,” Tyler laughs with a hand around Harry’s waist to stop them from tripping over each other. “Running out for a while?”

 

“Shit. I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes. “And, yeah. For bit,” he answers. He’s already leaving later than he planned to and it’s going to take him at least twenty minutes just to get to Louis’ by foot. “Sorry I can’t really stop and chat at the moment. But, maybe I’ll see you around?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Tyler nods as Harry starts walking again. “Um, will you be back tonight?” Harry stills at his question and turns around to meet a pair of nervous eyes. “There’s a party tonight that a lot of people are going to. I thought maybe we could go. Like, together? I know we end up leaving with each other sometimes anyway,” he laughs. “I thought maybe tonight we could start out that way too.”

 

Harry is honestly surprised by Tyler’s invitation. Any time they’ve ever hooked up it’s been under the influence of cheap alcohol and poor decisions. If this were a year ago, Harry probably would’ve taken him up on his offer to see each other outside of all of that, but his efforts are a little too late.

 

“Tyler, that sounds like it could be fun. Thanks for inviting me, but unfortunately I kind of already have plans. I probably won’t be back tonight.”

 

To Harry’s surprise, he actually looks disappointed by that news. He wonders when Tyler all of a sudden grew a heart or when he grew balls enough to ask him out on a pseudo-date in the first place. Where was this Tyler when they woke up next to each other the first time they had sex and Harry merely suggested that they go get some breakfast to combat their hangovers and the man sped out of the room like it was on fire.

 

“No, it’s cool. Who are you going out with? Liam and Niall?”

 

Harry hesitates for way too long before coming up with a diplomatic answer that won’t damn him and Louis or implicate his friends.

 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m actually kind of uh, seeing someone right now,” he winces. He and Louis aren’t at all exclusive, but the truth is, Harry hasn’t been interested in anyone else since they started whatever it is that they’re doing. It’s an extreme exaggeration if anything. “I really am sorry,” he offers. He’s not romantically interested in Tyler, but he’s still a good friend. He hates that he has to make him feel bad.

 

“It’s okay,” he says even though Harry can tell that it’s not.

 

“Hey, you know what? I’m sure Liam and Niall are still around here somewhere. They were talking about a party earlier. It has to be the same one. Maybe you can all go together,” he suggests.

 

Tyler looks as though asking to tag along with Harry’s best friends is the last thing he wants to do when he gives a short nod.

 

“Yeah. Maybe,” he shrugs. “I’ll see if they’re around.”

 

And that’s good enough for Harry.

 

“Okay, cool. You guys have fun! I’ll talk to you later,” Harry smiles before waving him goodbye and jogging out of the building.

 

 

It takes him only twenty-five minutes to get to Louis’ house once he exits the weird twilight zone universe in which Tyler wants to be more than just drunken neighbors.

 

He’s all set to walk right in as Louis so kindly instructed, but before he can even reach for the handle the door swings open to reveal Louis with a gorgeous man by his side who’s so fucking attractive that Harry is quite literally stunned into silence.

 

“Uh-?”

 

“Oh, hi there,” Louis greets him with a smile.

 

Harry manages to grin back but his gaze flits right back over to the man standing next to him who seems to find something quite amusing from the way he’s smirking at Harry. Much like Louis, Harry can’t actually tell how old this guy is. He could be a professor just as easily as he could be a student just like him. Either way, Harry doesn’t like him. He also doesn’t like how comfortable they seem standing so close to one another.

 

The amused man glances Harry over with his rich brown eyes and then turns to pull Louis into a loose hug.

 

“You’ve got company, so I’ll see you later, Lou. I’ll text you,” he promises before letting go. The man sidesteps Harry on his way out the door and offers him an outstretched hand. “Harry, right?” the man asks, still looking as amused as ever as they greet each other in a cautious handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, mate. Have a good night.”

 

He gets in his car and drives off leaving Harry and Louis to stare after him until his lights are no longer visible.

 

“You’re just in time,” Louis grins. “We literally just got back.”

 

 _Terrific,_ Harry thinks. He made it just in time to see whoever that guy was leaving Louis’ house at half past ten at night. It must’ve been some fucking dinner.

 

“So…who was that?” Harry asks in as casual of a tone as he’s capable of at the moment.

 

“Who? Z?” Louis chuckles.

 

 _Z?_ Really? What kind of name is that? “Yeah… _Z,”_ Harry rolls his eyes.

 

“What the-?” Louis raises an eyebrow at him before snorting out a laugh that builds into an echoing cackle. “You mean, why was Zayn, my _best friend since I was kid_ , here at my house after a dinner with a _group_ of our mutual friends even though he has every right to be? I have no idea,” he laughs.

 

Harry’s cheeks burn from the playful light shining in Louis’ eyes. What the hell is wrong with him, questioning Louis like he has any right to do so?

 

“Shit, Louis. I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean it like that. Of course he has every right to be here. Don’t listen to me. I was just- I don’t know.”

 

Louis fondly rolls his eyes at him. He grabs him by the front of his shirt and pulls him across the threshold until they’re nearly chest to chest. “Come here, you,” he orders. He pushes Harry against the closed door to hum against his jaw.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone was a bit _jealous_ just a second ago,” he teases.

 

A bit jealous doesn’t even begin to describe the flame of envy that had ignited his very soul.

 

Harry scoffs at Louis’ completely accurate assumption. “I wasn’t jealous,” he lies, and not very well if Louis’ little giggle is anything to go by.

 

“ _Right_ ,” he says, not sounding at all convinced. “Well, don’t worry. Zayn may look like a god now, but I’ve witnessed him being potty trained and I had to look at him that one time he had acne for like a week. There’s some things a man just can’t unsee,” he shudders.

 

Now it’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “ _Shut up_ ,” he laughs, his breaths shortening to quiet gasps when Louis gently nips at his jaw causing Harry’s stomach to flutter wildly.

 

“ _Make me_ ,” he says in challenge that Harry is all too willing to accept.

 

*

 

He feels like he’s floating later that night as Louis uses the tips of his fingers to trace little designs across his chest. He’s never done anything like this before in his life; sleeping with someone more than a year or two older than him; that same someone who happens to also be his professor. It’s one of the craziest situations he’s ever been apart of, but he likes doing it. He likes _Louis._

 

What the two of them have is obviously very casual. Harry’s well aware of the fact, but still, he can’t help but wonder if this is all shiny and new for Louis as well. If Harry’s name is just another on a very long list.

 

“How many times have you done this before?” he whispers.

 

“What? Ride somebody until I can barely see straight?” he chuckles. “Not often enough unfortunately.”

 

“ _Charming,_ ” Harry grins, “But, I actually meant in reference to us and what we’ve been doing. I meant how many times has something like _this_ happened…How many have there been?” he asks in spite of the suspicious new tingle of nerves flitting through him.

 

It’s not like the number actually matters. Louis could admit to sleeping with two or forty-two students in the past. He could be sleeping with someone else besides Harry right now for all he knows. It’s not like he really has the right to judge. Nor does he have the right to want to push every single one of the people who came before him off of a steep cliff.

 

Louis goes quiet as the finger tracing along Harry’s chest slows to a stop. Harry can’t tell if it’s because he’s just asked something that he’s not comfortable sharing or because he’s still fucking _counting_.

 

“…That would be none,” Louis says after a long pause. _None._ It’s stupid, but Harry’s entire body relaxes like a deep sigh after hearing that.

 

“Really? _No one_?”

 

He finds that hard to believe. Louis is an insanely attractive person. Not even just based on looks either. He’s attractive because of his attitude; his mind and the way he thinks. Harry gets turned on by him at the drop of a hat when they’re alone, but he struggles just as badly with holding it together during Louis’ lectures just because of the way the man speaks. He’s passionate about so many things in life and listening to Louis talk about art is like watching Da Vinci himself create a masterpiece. Harry hangs off of every word that falls from his beautiful lips. He knows he can’t be the only one to fall victim.

 

“No. No one,” he answers quietly. “…There was this awful rumor once about me and a group of ex-students that _they_ actually started, but besides that, no. There’s been nobody else. Just you.”

 

Louis resumes tracing his skin after that and it still feels just as heavenly as it did before. Maybe even a little better because as far as he knows, Louis’ hands have never touched someone else the special way they’re touching Harry. Louis’ gorgeous and a whole decade older than him. He’s sure Louis has enough stories about past lovers to fill a book, but in this moment Harry _feels_ like he’s the only one so he lets himself bathe in the magnificence of it.

 

“So…Zayn…” Harry says after a while.

 

“Ah, yes. The infamous Zayn. The man you were plotting to push down my front steps.” Louis smirks against his naked skin causing Harry to pull away from how much his stubble tickles. Harry has to poke him in the arm to get him to stop trying to give him beard burn on top of the half dozen bruises already beginning to mar his skin courtesy of Louis’ mouth. “What about him?” Louis asks once he’s done being an annoying shit.

 

“He knew who I was. He even knew my name,” Harry elaborates. He didn’t look surprised to see Harry standing at Louis’ door either. He grinned like he half-expected Harry to be there.

 

Louis doesn’t answer him right away. Instead, he lets out a sigh that ghosts right over Harry’s skin.

 

“I may have mentioned you a couple of times,” he whispers. “It’s no big deal. I trust him completely if that’s what you’re worried about,” he quickly adds when Harry doesn’t immediately say anything.

 

Harry isn’t worried about Louis’ best friend telling on them. He’s honestly just surprised that Louis thought to tell Zayn about him at all. 

 

“So, you talk about me?” he smirks. Louis must catch the teasing note in his voice because he immediately sits up to glare at him.

 

“About the cocky, _lost_ English student who waltzed into my class like he owned it and then busted into my office as well? Of _course_ I told Zayn,” he scoffs. “I’m pretty sure he thought I was making you up,” he mutters.

 

Harry’s grin only grows wider. “You _liked_ me busting into your office. You wouldn’t have invited me to your house that night if you hadn’t.”

 

Louis has no witty answer for that. Harry is sure he’s won this round of ‘ _you like me, just admit it,’_ when he pulls Harry down into a kiss that makes his breath catch. And honestly, that’s answer enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry wakes up for the second time the next morning to the smell of food wafting in from somewhere in Louis’ house. When he woke up the first time, the sun had barely even begun to rise and Louis threatened to break the hot leg draped over him if Harry didn’t stop squirming around so much. Both of Harry’s legs are thankfully still intact, so he obviously drifted off at some point. It was probably somewhere between smirking at Louis’ open-mouthed snores and counting the splatter of tiny freckles just below his left ear.

 

He wanders into the kitchen in a pair of Louis’ old joggers because he couldn’t find his boxer briefs after about five seconds of hard searching. Louis is at the stove when he walks in, muttering under his breath because the temperature is too hot and his breakfast is sizzling angrily in the pan. Harry didn’t realize that his professor sucked at basic survival skills such as cooking, but he looks great fucking up breakfast in a pair his own joggers that sit sinfully low on his hips like he didn’t even really want to put them on.

 

“What the hell are you doing to those eggs?” he laughs. Louis turns to him with a sour expression that only makes him look even more out of place standing in front of a major kitchen appliance.

 

“I liked it better when you were asleep minding your own business. Let’s go back to that,” he quips as he attempts to flip and cook the other side of an egg that’s barely in one whole piece as it is.

 

Harry can only watch a ship sink for so long before he has to intervene. He firmly pokes his professor in the side to move him out of the way despite his demands to not be ‘manhandled’.

 

Louis relinquishes his spatula with a deep contempt in his eyes that Harry finds delightfully cute.

 

“Isn’t this quite the turn of events?” he smirks as he cracks another egg into the pan to try and save the one that Louis just destroyed. “The _pupil_ instructing the _teacher_. How ironic.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes at the extra large egg that Harry just created and mutters something under his breath about English majors and all their ironic bullshit that makes Harry burst out laughing.

 

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been cooking breakfast for myself every morning for almost thirty-three years without anybody’s help.”

 

“Well, maybe that’s the problem, my dear. No one here to show you how things are done.” Louis tries to have no reaction at all to Harry calling him dear, but his cheeks hold the slightest tinge of pink from the way Harry grins at him.

 

“Whatever. I’m making tea,” he announces out of nowhere. _Boiling water_ , Harry thinks. That has to go better than the eggs. “And _those_ are mine by the way,” Louis points at the bottoms Harry swiped right out of his middle drawer. “How _ironic_ ,” he deadpans.

 

“I don’t actually think that’s irony. It’s more like blatant thievery, but I promise I’m only borrowing them. Do you mind?”

 

Louis cuts his eyes over at him like he wants to say yes just to be annoying but his lips turn up at the corners ever so slightly, giving him away. “No, I don’t mind,” he admits. “But my things are too small for you,” he says. “Just bring a bag of stuff with you next time so you can be comfortable here. I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he shrugs as he grabs two mugs from the cabinet.

 

Harry blinks over at his professor in surprise. He definitely didn’t see that coming. A whole _bag_? Harry left an ink pen in someone’s dorm room once and they nearly had an aneurysm.

 

“Wow. Thanks, Louis. Will do.” Harry tries to keep the self-satisfied grin he’s wearing from revealing just how thrilling it is to know that Louis’ okay with him leaving traces of himself behind. It’s no use. Louis can see right through him, sporting a little happy grin of his own.

 

“It’s not a big deal. Just don’t burn our breakfast, yeah?” is all Louis says before bumping their hips together so he can fit in front of the stove as well to burn tea.

 

*

 

It’s a couple of weeks later when Harry’s phone vibrates against his desk. He shoves away the book he’s been poring over, thankful for a quick break from the similarities and differences between two paintings that now look like big identical blobs from how long he’s been staring at them.

 

He squeezes his eyes shut a few times in rapid succession to wake himself up before finally reading the new message.

 

‘ _Do you want to come over for a bit?’_

 

Harry feels himself wearing a sad sort of grin as he types out his reply. He really wishes he could go. ‘ _I can’t. I’m being responsible :( Paper due next week for that bitchy professor I have,’_ he teases.

 

Louis returned his first paper to him a few weeks ago in class. Harry had worked hard to get that assignment written and turned in early so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore and could more spend time on other things. He was handsomely rewarded for being so productive. His spine still tingles at the memory of Louis bent over his desk, however the grade he received for his work was slightly lackluster in comparison. Louis handed him his graded work with a little note scribbled at the top, praising his efforts, but encouraging him to spend a little more time on his next assignment to better shape his ideas. It was a gentle letdown, much like the time he made Harry rewrite his first discussion board submission for only half the points because Harry copied ninety percent of it from the book.

 

Harry’s a great student in his English classes. He always has been, so he took his paper from Louis that day with a firm nod and the determination to get a better grade the next time, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Now, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t rather be tangled up in Louis’ bed sheets at his house, but you can’t always get what you want.

 

_‘Aww. So, no time for a short break?’_

 

Louis’ offer is tempting, especially on a Saturday night but he needs to get at least another page done before morning and it’s not going to write itself. Harry types out an apology for not being able to be with him tonight.

 

‘ _Oh_ , _okay. That’s fine,’_ Louis sends back. ‘ _I’m coming to you then.’_

 

Harry laughs so suddenly that he nearly chokes. He immediately sends a message back.

 

‘ _You’d deign to come slum it in the dorms??’_

 

‘ _Well, yeah,’_ Louis’ message comes a minute later. _‘As long as that’s okay with you?’_

 

Louis coming to see him for a change would be more than okay with him, yet highly unlikely. Harry will believe it when he sees it.

 

‘ _Okay, then_. _Allen Hall. 2nd floor. Room 162.’_

 

Harry can hardly believe his ears when someone quietly knocks on his door half an hour later. He crosses the room to open it and laughs at the sight of Louis wearing one of Harry’s hoodies that he left at his house a few nights ago. It’s too big, even for Harry. It completely covers Louis’ upper half and the hood hides most of his face which was obviously the point since technically he’s not even supposed to be here.

 

“Sorry. Do I know you?” Harry chuckles as he squints like he can’t make out his professor’s face.

 

“Oh, shut up,” he says as he pushes past Harry to enter the room.

 

Harry catches him by the waist before he can get too far, his fingers already eagerly digging into his sides. “ _Make me_ ,” he hums against his ear. He lets his hands wander beneath his layers to lightly scratch his nails down Louis’ stomach.

 

“I would, but unfortunately I’m not actually here for that. You’re being responsible remember? You have work to finish and coincidentally, so do I,” he says lifting up a bag full of ungraded assignments that Harry has only just noticed.

 

He leaves a lingering kiss on Harry’s slack jaw and then walks over to the bed with his backpack hanging off the foot of it. He hops up on the mattress and settles down in the center of it with a stack of papers and the blue pen that he always uses for grading.

 

“Wait. You seriously brought over work to do? In the middle of my _bed?”_

 

It’s not like Harry minds one bit, he just figured Louis came here tonight for, well, _other_ things.

 

“Well, you said you had stuff to finish and I have a few things I need to get done as well. It was really quiet at home and you were being lame, so I figured we could just work together. Don’t let me distract you. Go back to whatever it is you were doing before,” Louis encourages him. “Pretend like I’m not even here,” he grins before returning his attention back to his papers.

 

Pretend like he isn’t there? There’s no chance in hell that Harry’s going to be able to do that. He can feel Louis’ pull from across the room but he tries to do as he says and sits back down at his desk to ignore the very attractive and focused professor lounging on his bed without him.

 

It takes over an hour for him to write the page that he promised himself he would, but he does it and now he feels a lot less anxious about his assignment being due soon. Harry glanced over his shoulder more times than necessary to see if Louis really was camped out in his dorm room or if he was just hallucinating from how tired he was. He thought for sure he must have made it all up, but Louis was still there nestled down into his messy sheets every time.

 

He shuts his laptop at half past midnight and glances over his shoulder once more to find Louis fast asleep in a sea of half-graded assignments. Harry gets up to gather all the papers from around him and carefully places them back inside of Louis’ work bag. He finds the pen he was using still clenched in the death grip of his right hand. He tries to discreetly take it and place it the bag as well, but Louis stirs and blinks up at him with confusion in his sleepy blue eyes when he tries.

 

“Shhh. Go back to sleep,” he whispers. Harry wedges the pen out of his grip and drops it into his bag at his feet.

 

“Shit. What time is it? I’m so sorry,” he yawns. “I didn’t mean to pass out in your bed.” Louis falling asleep and leaving his scent all over Harry’s bed isn’t something that he’s going to ever complain about. Honestly, it should happen more often.

 

“Don’t apologize. Just slide over a bit so I can get in too,” he grins.

 

Harry’s head finds his pillow and he nearly sighs from how nice it is to finally get to lie down after an evening spent hunched over his desk. It feels even better when Louis slides in close and wedges himself beneath his chin, practically curling himself around Harry’s body with a content sigh of his own.

 

Harry reaches over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table throwing the room into complete darkness. He holds Louis close to him and presses a kiss to the top of his head, glad that he decided to come over even though they’re both too tired to do much more than this.

 

That’s fine with Harry though because in a way, getting to be with Louis while he’s so soft and vulnerable like this is almost just as intimate.

 

*

 

Harry wakes up the next morning with Louis’ body heat still seeping into his skin, but when he opens his eyes he finds that Louis is already awake. His blue eyes are still sleep-heavy, a fond grin tugging at his lips as he watches Harry wake.

 

“Hi. You were just mumbling an _excessive_ amount. What the hell?” he teases.

 

Harry can feel himself achingly hard from the way he just made love to dream Louis in his sleep. His cheeks warm, hoping he didn’t mumble anything too revealing or embarrassing.

 

Louis raises an expectant, amused eyebrow when his question goes unanswered. Harry doesn’t say a word, instead he guides Louis down to where he is and connects their lips.

 

Louis smiles against him, chuckling when Harry’s fingers slip into his mussed hair. “Mmm. Good morning to you too,” he jokes, his voice scratchy and yet light as rain the way it always sounds when he first wakes up. His breath catches a bit when Harry suddenly tips him over to reverse their positions, a pleased sound leaving his mouth when his back hits the sheets.

 

Louis lies completely still as Harry gets him out of his t-shirt and slowly unties his drawstring. He slips his joggers down Louis’ thighs and throws them over the edge of the bed before taking off his own clothes, their bodies radiating heat everywhere they’re touching with Harry hovering over him.

 

He reaches over inside of his bedside drawer for the lube and a condom and Louis doesn’t even smirk to tell him to slow down. His legs fall open and then spread even further apart to give Harry room to fit between them, his back arching off of Harry’s small bed at the first press of his fingers inside of him.

 

Harry takes his time opening him up. So much time in fact that Louis’ thighs hold a slight tremble by the time Harry finally lines himself up and pushes inside. Harry counts each thrust and every desperate breath that Louis takes as they move together in the quiet.

 

He feels just as overwhelmed as he did earlier when he was only dreaming. It’s different being here though; touching Louis in real life. Moving inside of him where he can feel every inch of himself being enveloped by the most perfect warmth he’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing. It’s a high like no other and Harry can feel the intensity of it all curling right there in his stomach like a boiling pot about to spill over.

 

Harry hangs his head when Louis’ hot breaths falling against his ear start to make him fall apart piece by weakened piece. The steady rhythm he had created with his hips doesn’t even exist anymore as he tries to hold out long enough to at least get Louis off.

 

“Wait for me. I’m close too,” he begs when he lifts Harry’s chin to hold his faded gaze.

 

Harry nods and tries to think of anything else besides the release that he needs at this very moment. He’s already biting into the flesh of his own cheek when Louis’ mouth falls open a few thrusts later. Harry can feel the exact moment that Louis comes, his body tensing up in quick pulses that send Harry tumbling right over the edge with him. Gone.

 

He doesn’t move once he finishes. He can’t. He barely even has the time to catch his breath, his heart absolutely racing when Louis’ warm lips find his. The gentle brush of them and the slide of his tongue is so sweet that he feels as though he’s freefalling from how hard his stomach flutters. Louis cups Harry’s face with both hands, letting his thumb stroke his cheek in a way that leaves his sensitive skin humming in the wake of his soft touch.

 

The two of them have done this so many times since the start of the semester. Harry can’t even begin to count how many days and long nights that Louis has given him, but somehow, this time, this _morning_ is different. They’ve never touched each other like this; reverent like breathing too hard might shatter their entire world. He’s never felt his body so attentive and alive in the wake of Louis practically carving his name across his heart with each swipe of his tongue along his lips either, but it’s a feeling he accepts with open arms.

 

It’s almost noon by the time Louis reluctantly gathers his things and slips Harry’s hoodie back on to sneak out.

 

Harry is almost ready to let him leave; _almost_ , but he can’t stop himself from pressing his body against the door just to feel Louis’ mouth on his one more time.

 

“Oh- Hey,” Louis laughs when several more minutes tick by unnoticed. God, Harry wishes he could just stay here. “I’ve been reminding myself all morning, but I still almost forgot to ask. What are you doing next weekend?”

 

Harry gives a small shake his head, his eyes still trained on Louis’ beautiful lips. Next weekend? Staying locked away in this room with him for the rest of the foreseeable future would be just fine with Harry.

 

“Right…so, there’s this art conference thing that starts next Friday. It’s not like _official_ work stuff, but there’s this speaker who’s going to be there that I really like. Other people will be there too, so it’s not just a one-day type of thing,” he continues. “It’ll probably be really boring for you, actually. Like, you don’t even really like art, so I get it if you’d rather not waste your entire weekend listening to-”

 

“I’d love to go with you,” Harry says before Louis can list any other potential reasons of why he wouldn’t want to. “That is what you’re asking me, right? If I’d like to go?”

 

Louis looks more nervous now as he releases a deep breath that Harry didn’t realize he was even holding. “Um, yeah. If you want to. Like I said, you’ll probably be bored to tears, so.”

 

“Then I’ll just make sure to pack lots of tissues,” Harry grins, delighted at the fond roll of Louis’ eyes that means he’s done something so endearing that Louis literally can’t look him anymore. The only thing Harry loves more is when Louis hangs his head after one of his puns so that he can’t see anything at all.

 

“Say any more shit like that while riding in my car I’ll have no problem kicking you out,” he promises before pushing Harry’s door open. He steps out into the bustling corridor with his hood up, which must make him feel brave because he quickly turns around to press an appreciative kiss to his lips. “Thanks, Harry,” he grins with bright eyes before ducking his head to move inconspicuously through the corridor of people going about their regular Sunday afternoons.

 

Harry leans back against his threshold to watch him go with his stomach still fluttering wildly. He catches the movement of someone else out of the corner of his eye and nods a hello when he sees it’s just Tyler. “Morning.”

 

“Was that-? Was that just one of the art professors?” he asks, watching as the hooded figure turns the corner and disappears from sight.

 

His neighbor’s question causes all the butterflies that were just flitting around in his stomach to turn to lead and drop right into the pit of it.

 

“What? No _,_ of course not _._ Why would you think something like that?” Harry frowns, but his denial comes a beat too late to be convincing enough to make Tyler think he’s just seeing things.

 

“Is that who you’ve been spending so much time with? Professor Tomlinson?” he asks with a knowing expression.

 

Harry’s first instinct is to lie again but that didn’t even go very well the first time.

 

“…Maybe,” he answers after much deliberation about whether or not he should.

 

Tyler’s cool. He’s a good, nice guy; a friend who clearly has feelings for him, but that shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t mean he can’t be supportive of Harry’s happiness even if he’s found it with someone else; even if they aren’t even _really_ together, but that’s a fact that Harry tries not to think too much about.

 

“So, it’s true then?” Tyler snorts. “He really does sleep with all of his students.”

 

His repulsed, condescending tone towards Louis makes defense flare up inside of Harry in an instant.

 

“ _No_. Actually, he doesn’t,” Harry snaps back at him, disgusted that Tyler would say something so rude. “He’s not like that. I’m the only person he’s ever done anything like this with and I’m pretty sure it’s only because I’m not even supposed to be in his class. Sure, he’s my professor I guess, but not _really_.” Harry’s degree doesn’t pertain to contemporary art in the slightest. He could ask for a letter of recommendation from Louis when the times comes, but it’s not like it would get him very far with the journalism career he’s after once he graduates. This one art class will literally be just a flub on his transcript, and that’s just fine with Harry because getting to know Louis is worth it.

 

“Right,” Tyler smirks. “Tell that to the six students he let fuck him one after another a few years ago. Everybody knows about that and there’s no telling how many others there have been since.”

 

“None of that’s even remotely true. Those idiots made that up.”

 

Harry’s stomach turns just thinking about it. Louis told him that those students started that rumor because he wouldn’t raise their final averages and Harry believes him completely. Why would he lie about something like that? If there was even an ounce of truth to it he probably wouldn’t have mentioned it to Harry at all.

 

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Tyler. You don’t even know him.”

 

Tyler’s face screws up at his response before he laughs. “Why are you even trying to defend him? Who cares if he’s fucked the entire student body? I was just letting you know what you’re getting yourself into, mate.” It’s advice that Harry neither wants or needs in his life.

 

“ _Right_. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Harry spits, knowing he’ll do no such thing. Louis isn’t at all what some people clearly think he is. Even Harry is guilty of judging him prematurely when they first met, but he knows better now. He _knows_ him. “And I know you think he sleeps with everything that moves so you don’t care, but would you mind not mentioning that you saw him here? It’s pretty important to me.”

 

Tyler frowns like Harry’s request is some huge inconvenience for him.

 

“Fine, whatever,” he shrugs. “It’s not like whatever I say is going to hurt his reputation anyway. He’s done that all on his own.”

 

Harry lets his door slam when he goes back inside of his room, fuming because he knows Tyler and all of his false accusations share his wall. Those guys were a bunch of bitter liars. They tried to get Louis in trouble for something that he had every right to refuse them. It was unfair to Louis four years ago when the rumors started and it’s still unfair now because some people think he really did those things.

 

His phone vibrates on his bedside table and Harry snatches it up. All the anger he feels melts away when he sees a message from Louis that’s so much longer than usual that he’s sure he must’ve typed it out as soon as he made it back to his car.

 

‘ _Hi, there!_ _Thanks again for agreeing to go with me! I’ll book our hotel tonight. I’ll get a really nice one so when you’re bored to tears you’ll at least have room service to dull the pain. Also, thanks for letting me work and crash in your room and drool all over your bed. I saw how hard you were working on your paper for contemporary. I can’t wait to read it, Harry. I’m sure it’ll be amazing Xx._ ’

 

One message from him is all it takes to put a big smile back on Harry’s face.

 

This is the same man who made Harry’s heart practically take flight this morning as they laid in bed together in a way that Harry’s never experienced before in his entire life. This is the same man who would never in a million years give Harry or any other student something that they didn’t earn. He’d be more likely to punch someone in the chest for even asking for a better grade let alone actually give in.

 

There’s just no way that anything Tyler said is true. Harry needs to let Louis know that Tyler saw him, but he’s in such a good mood about the conference that Harry hates to ruin it for him already. He types out a different reply instead, one that represents the way his stomach went all quivery when Louis invited him a trip for just the two of them rather than how angry he is at Tyler.

 

‘ _I don’t know about that... we’ll see how amazing you think it is AFTER you’ve had a chance to read it. Thanks for inviting me along. I can’t wait to be immersed in all things art and not understand a word of it. Also, room service is always a spectacular choice. I hope there’s veggie pizza :)’_

_‘Remind me why I let you stay in my class again?’_ Harry smiles to himself for the rest of the afternoon, because he has no clue why Louis agreed to let him stay but he’s so glad that he did.

 

 

*

 

Next Friday comes and Harry can hardly contain his excitement about getting to spend the entire weekend with Louis away from Tyler (whom Louis now has a personal vendetta against since he’s a _dickhead_ ), people on campus, and all of the other irrelevant bullshit always distracting them from each other.

 

He told Liam and Niall about Louis weeks ago because just like Louis with Zayn, Harry trusts them with his life. They were nervous about it at first but they can see how happy he has been lately so they immediately support him. They told him to be careful, but they wish him and Louis all the best in their unorthodox pseudo-relationship. His friends’ blessing put a bigger smile on Harry’s face than he even knew he was capable of wearing.

 

Louis texts him to meet him at his house after Harry’s last class on Friday. His philosophy professor dismissed class about ten minutes later than usual, so he’s running behind but just slightly. Harry’s got his duffle bag all packed with a few nice, business-casual ensembles folded neatly inside of it just as Louis instructed.

 

Louis’ already putting his things into the back seat of his car when he notices Harry walking up the driveway.

 

“There you are,” he greets him excitedly. “You usually beat me here on Fridays. I was worried you might not make it.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Harry frowns. “ _David R. Hughes_ is going to be at this conference breathing the same air as us. I wouldn’t miss this trip for _anything_.”

 

Louis blinks at him like he’s about two seconds from punching him in the balls, but then the sunniest smile Harry’s ever seen breaks out on his face.

 

“I hate you. Be more of a prick,” he says before pulling Harry towards him by his t-shirt. He presses his lips against Harry can taste his excited energy on his tongue. “Thanks again for agreeing to come with me,” he says once he pulls back.

 

Harry leans against the car watching Louis throw his duffle inside next to his own. “Oh, so, you _don’t_ hate me and I’m no longer a prick because I’m not fangirling over some famous art person?” Harry smirks.

 

“Famous art _critic_ and _journalist_ ,” he corrects him. “And, of course you’re still a prick, but I happen to like that about you,” he smirks back.

 

He smacks a kiss to Harry’s jaw before heading for the driver’s side. Harry runs his fingers over the spot where his lips just touched. Harry still can’t believe he gets to spend all weekend with him.

 

*

 

The drive is an hour and a half, but fortunately for Harry, Louis makes the mistake of giving him free reign of the music to keep them entertained. By the time they get out of the car they’ve listened to enough of The Beatles that just hearing the opening chords of I Want to Hold Your Hand again makes Louis threaten to make him sleep in the car the whole weekend.

 

He mostly does it to annoy Louis because even though the two of them spend a lot of their time together, they have yet to do everyday couple things like torture each other with their favorite songs. It’s fun showing Louis something that he loves for a change, but Harry also does it because the lyrics to every song on his phone are the same words he hears over and over again as he’s walking to class each day. Harry doesn’t tell him that every song is secretly an ode to him but Louis grins enough after groaning and rolling his eyes that Harry’s pretty sure he knows.

 

“I’m going to check us in and get our conference passes. You’ll be alright with our bags for a few seconds, yeah?”

 

Harry snorts a laugh at the worried expression Louis shoots him like Harry can’t stand here by himself. “Yes, mum. I’ll scream if someone tries to kidnap me,” he laughs. “ _Go._ I’ll be okay,” he says, giving Louis a gentle nudge.

 

Harry watches him talk to the concierge at the front desk, his weight shifting from one hip to the other as he checks them in. He looks amazing all the time in his work clothes, even in his comfy clothes for lying around the house, but there’s just something about him in a pair of tight jeans and a shirt so thin that he can make out the soft outline of the muscles of his back through the white fabric. Harry’s imagination ran fucking wild the whole time they were in the car.

 

“Stare much?” he asks when he comes back and finds everything just as he left it including Harry’s eyes still glued right to him.

 

“Hmm? Oh. I wasn’t looking at you,” he lies. “I was checking out the concierge. I think he’s pretty cute.”

 

Louis glances back at the man with sandy-colored hair much like his own.

 

“Cute, but he’s not your type. He’s too young.”

 

“What? No way. He looks like he’s my age,” Harry argues.

 

“ _Exactly_ ,” Louis grins. Out of nowhere, Louis links their fingers together as a member of the hotel staff comes to carry their bags. Harry glances down at their joined hands like he’s never seen a pair do that before. He blinks up at Louis with the same expression of astonishment.

 

“What? Isn’t this what you wanted?” he smirks. “I mean, you played that damn song about half a million times so I just figured-”

 

“No, no. I do. You’re right,” Harry assures him, wiggling his fingers around until their hands are laced even tighter together. “Thanks,” he whispers.

 

Louis fondly rolls his eyes like Harry’s making it a bigger deal than it is. He isn’t.

 

“Don’t thank me. Just promise to never play that fucking song again,” he laughs.

 

“Deal,” Harry agrees, allowing Louis to pull him through the hotel lobby. He keeps glancing down at Louis’ smaller hand in his and despite his promise, he can’t help but loudly sing the song in celebration; however, he makes sure to sing it to himself inside his head where no one can hear him.

 

*

 

They get settled into their room and look over the conference schedule together to determine which sessions are must-sees and which ones Louis doesn’t give two fucks about. There’s a session that starts tonight at seven, but Louis doesn’t care to attend. He says he’s hungry and would much rather take Harry out to dinner instead. Harry supports that decision whole-heartedly because dinner outside of his dorm room and Louis’ house sounds amazing.

 

Louis walks out of the bathroom just in time to see Harry shrugging on his dark jacket over his crisp-white shirt that Liam took the time to iron and neatly fold so that it wouldn’t get wrinkled during the journey here. He’s wearing the nicest slacks that he has and the only pair of _real_ shoes that he owns. He devoted about fifteen minutes to sweeping his chunky hair back away from his face with the mouse that he rarely uses and then spent another fifteen just inspecting himself in the mirror because he just wants to look good for this.

 

He and Louis spend most of their time together these days, but it’s always a secret. And yes, he has wanted to hold Louis’ hand almost every day since they met, but people around campus would run wild with speculation if they so much as brushed arms while walking next to each other. Most of their days and nights are spent behind closed doors. They haven’t really ventured outside of the few safe places in which they feel totally comfortable and the fact that no one here will give a shit if they hold hands or sit right on top of each other at dinner has excitement coursing through his body.

 

“ _Wow_ ,” Louis grins as he goes over to his bag to grab his cologne and spritz some on the side of his neck in the spot that Harry loves to run his nose along. “Who would’ve guessed that Harry Styles the English student could clean up so nicely?” he teases.

 

“Not as nice as you,” Harry blurts out causing Louis to roll his eyes in denial.

 

“Oh, please. I dress like this almost every day.” And he does, except Harry’s never seen this sky-blue button-down that matches his eyes before, nor has he ever seen this particular pair of fitted slacks that hug every curve of his lower body just right like they were made for him.

 

"I think you look amazing every day, but, tonight especially. You look amazing," Harry tells him. Louis stops messing with his bag to glance up at him through his eyelashes, so full and beautiful even from where Harry's standing a few feet away.

 

Louis merely grins to himself until his cheeks aren't quite as pink as Harry just caused them to be. "Well, I'm all set. Are you ready to go?" he asks after clearing his throat to break the heavy silence.

 

"Yep. I'm ready if you are." Harry walks to the door and holds it open for Louis to walk through, laughing at the way his professor raises an impressed eyebrow.

 

"You're being awfully chivalrous this evening,” he smiles. “Trying to impress someone?"

 

"Yeah. I'm kind of hoping you'll put out on the first date."

 

"Well, keep dreaming, Styles. A gentleman would _never_.

 

Harry has no doubt in his mind that even if they’d met under different circumstances they wouldn’t have been able to keep their hands off of one another for very long.

 

“I guess it’s a good thing neither of us has never claimed to be one of those then,” he quips. Louis gasps in mock offense before smirking and shrugging his shoulders in agreement. ‘ _Thank God_ _for that_ ,’ is all he says before taking Harry’s hand in his to walk out the door.

 

 

The restaurant that they find on their short walk through the city is lovely. It's much nicer than the restaurants around campus that are priced more for student budgets and generally only serve grease.

 

Louis holds the door open for him this time as he ushers them inside. He asks for one of the small tables near the window with a single lit candle in the center forcing Harry to hide his pleased smile by dropping his gaze to the floor. He didn’t realize this night was candle worthy.

 

"Is this okay?" Louis checks once they start reading over their menus.

 

"Better than okay," he smiles back, still a bit surprised by how nice this place is. He can’t believe how overdue this night is for them.

 

Louis checks on him a lot. He asks little things like whether or not he likes the wine or if he's comfortable in the expensive chairs they're sitting in. "Lou, I'm great," Harry laughs once he asks if the dessert they're sharing is too sweet.

 

They had started the night across from each other, but sharing food drove them to move closer until their elbows touch. Harry leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek which is smooth as marble against his lips because he shaved for tonight.

 

"Everything is wonderful. Thanks for bringing me here," Harry whispers.

 

Louis moves away from Harry's touch and he frowns because he thought for sure that his kiss would be welcomed. He follows Louis' gaze to the couple standing in front of them and understands why Louis interrupted their quiet moment.

 

"Louis!” a man in a grey jacket and thick rimmed glasses beams. “I didn't know you were here for this conference too. How have you been?"

 

"Er- I'm doing good, Alex. Hi, Lindsay," Louis waves to the woman by his side. "I didn't know you'd be here either."

 

"Yeah, we skipped the first session. We're going to go to the later ones tomorrow," his friend explains. His gaze lands on Harry and his hand where it's still resting on Louis' thigh. "And, who is this?" he asks with a grin. "New colleague?"

 

Louis fish mouths with pink cheeks until he's able to string some nervous words together.

 

"No, he's not. This is my, uh… He's- He’s my, um..." Harry can hear the scary word that's right on the tip of Louis' tongue just waiting to be said so Harry finishes the stammered introduction himself.

 

"I'm Harry. I'm Louis' boyfriend," he says as he stands to shake Alex's hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

 

Alex’s wife shakes his hand in greeting too. "So, I assume since Alex has never met you that you’re like me and got dragged to this conference too,” she smiles. “Or, are you actually in the fine arts field?"

 

"Oh, no. I know nothing about art whatsoever," he chuckles. "I'm just here supporting Louis. There’s a speaker he really wants to hear." Alex’s wife fondly rolls her eyes when her husband jumps on Harry’s last words and starts talking about how excited he is to see the great Mr. Hughes as well.

 

Harry glances over at Louis and finds him looking much less like he's going to hyperventilate. He looks a bit shocked at how well this is going but it's a pleased kind of shock so Harry continues to smile like throwing him and Louis into a committed relationship tonight was all part of his master plan.

 

"It was very nice to meet you Harry. And it's nice to see Tomlinson here looking like he's actually enjoying himself at one of these things for a change. I'm glad he brought you with him."

 

"Yeah," Harry smiles as he glances at the man next to him. "Me too."

 

Louis apologizes as soon as they’re back in their room.

 

"I am so sorry about that. I honestly didn't think we'd see anyone I knew since everyone was supposed to be at the first session and I panicked. I knew he didn't think we were colleagues because you're too young to have gone to school with us, but I didn't want him to think something awful about you either like...like…"

 

"Like, me spending the weekend with my brilliant art professor boyfriend simply because I like him and enjoy being in his company?” he finishes for him.

 

His professor blinks at him like some strange alien who's been put here in the real Harry's place.

 

Louis kicks off his shoes and flops back on their large bed with a big dramatic sigh so Harry toes off his shoes too and lies down beside him. “We don’t have to explain anything more than that, you know?” Harry says to the ceiling. “You worry too much about what other people think about us. Trust me, we’re not that interesting,” he jokes.

 

He feels Louis' gaze burning into the side of his face after a while. When Harry turns his head he finds Louis softly grinning at him.

 

"What now? Are you going to apologize at me some more?"

 

" _No_. It's nothing," Louis chuckles. "I just- I can't wait to see who you are in five years, _ten_ years when you're my age. You'll be something, I just know it."

 

"Obviously. My goal is basically to be _you_ when I’m all grown up," Harry grins.

 

"No, no, no,” he shakes his head. “You won't be anything like me, love. You'll have the job and the life and the family who adores you. You're going to get it right."

 

Harry smiles imagining all of that. He slips his hand into Louis' where it's lying next to him and squeezes it. "I could get it right with you." Right now, Louis' talking as if he won't get to see Harry achieve any of those things. Like he'll only have the privilege of watching it all happen as an outsider looking in. Harry hasn't really given much thought to having a life like that before, but he wouldn't mind it at all with Louis by his side.

 

Louis smiles along with him like he can almost see himself there in Harry's future too, but it only lasts for a moment before he gently cups Harry's face in one hand and kisses his lips. He sighs when he pulls back and squeezes Harry's hand like he’s checking to make sure he’s still there. Harry doesn’t tell him that he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. He just squeezes Louis’ hand back, resigned to let him know some other time when they haven’t had so much wine.

 

The next morning starts slowly when Harry wakes up with Louis curled around him as always with his head pillowed right on his chest, however, things speed up rather quickly when Louis bolts out of bed as soon as his eyes open and he realizes they have an hour to get downstairs.

 

Harry grins the whole morning as he watches Louis flit through the room getting dressed because Harry gets excited about things like concerts and meeting cool musicians. Louis is bouncing off the walls because he's going to see an old guy who apparently knows more about art than anyone else in the bloody world. Louis' a total geek just like his friend Alex from last night and Harry thinks it may be the cutest thing he's ever witnessed.

 

They're some of the first people to make it to the conference room where the first session is being held. They sit in the very front regardless of the hundreds of other seats towards the middle and the fact that the great David R. Hughes isn't even going to be there for another _three_ hours _._ Harry doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to sit still long enough to get through this when he can barely manage a sixty-minute lecture.

 

Louis was right. He is nearly bored to tears for the first half of the morning, but as soon as the star of the hour steps up to the podium the room becomes much livelier. Harry can see why Louis enjoys listening to this man talk about all the great pieces he's seen traveling all over the world. He has a lot of energy for someone who must be pushing seventy, but Louis is completely enraptured nonetheless.

 

He turns to Harry with bright eyes and grabs his hand half-way through. He holds it in his lap and squeezes each time Mr. Hughes says something semi-funny that makes Louis crack up the same way he does when one of Harry’s jokes land just right. It's hilarious watching him enjoy himself so much. He can't believe Louis thought he wouldn't want to be here with him to see this.

 

 _"Fuck,_ he's just so...cool and witty and _classy_. God, I want to be him when I grow up."

 

"You pretty much already are," Harry laughs once their back in their room. He thinks the very same things about Louis anytime he gets the privilege of listening to him teach. "You don't have all the silver fox hair yet, but give it some time my young friend. You'll look like Dumbledore in no time.”

 

"Fuck you. I will not," he laughs. He sits down next to Harry on the edge of the bed, but he climbs into Harry's lap just seconds later to bring their lips together with all the energy he's been holding back since this morning. "Thank you for coming here with me, Harry." Louis has thanked him nearly half a dozen times but he still doesn't seem to grasp the fact that Harry is honored to be with him anywhere, even sitting by his side listening to ancient old guy ramble about paintings.

 

 

It's later that night after they spend the rest of the day exploring the city and just enjoying their rare alone time without the fear of someone seeing them that Harry sits down at the desk inside their room to catch up on the reading he needs to finish before Monday.

 

He rubs at his eyes after only an hour and glances over his shoulder at Louis fast asleep. The sheets are all tangled up around him, leaving more of his naked body exposed than covered. He passed out like that after they finished having sex and he hasn't really moved much since except the couple of times he frowned in his sleep after reaching over to feel Harry's side still empty.

 

Harry takes out his phone and pulls up the only picture he has of Louis where the light was just right one morning and he was able to capture the beauty of him sleeping against his chest. Harry's in it too; there was no way to not get himself in the frame, but they both look so comfortable wearing nothing but each other's skin that he had no choice but to fall in love with it. Louis had woken up seconds after Harry took the picture, so the stillness of that moment didn't last long, but he loves looking back on it and remembering.

 

He angles his phone towards the hotel bed to capture this soft moment as well. Louis stirs almost as soon as he takes the photo because once again he's forgotten to turn off the sound, but the image of Louis draped across the sheets this way is as beautiful on his tiny phone screen as it is in real life.

 

"Stop being creepy and come to bed, weirdo."

 

Harry smiles and closes his book. He leaves his phone on the desk along with everything else unimportant right now to do exactly as Louis instructed.

 

*

 

They head back to reality at check-out time the next morning. Harry’s a bit sad to be leaving the little bubble of safety they’ve been hiding in, but at least he knows now more than ever that the way he feels for Louis isn’t just one-sided. Partly because he practically tacked the boyfriend title to their foreheads, mostly because Louis gets control of the music this time around and chooses every love song he can find in his phone to blast from the speakers.

 

The car rolls to a stop as Louis throws it in park on a side street near campus. Leaving him so soon isn’t something that Harry wants. He pulls Louis into a slow kiss that leaves Louis’ lips turned up in a grin when they part, his pulse point on the side of his neck thumping in a quick rhythm when he opens his eyes. “What was that for?”

 

“Because, I can’t help falling for you either,” he grins.

 

Louis’ face turns red faster than he can spit out the words to deny it. “I never said that.”

 

“You didn’t have to,” Harry smirks. He grabs Louis’ phone and shows him the list of recently played love songs, with Elvis Presley sitting right at the top.

 

“I’m pretty sure I just really like that song.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you just really like _me_ , but don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody,” Harry chuckles. He leans over to capture his lips again once Louis’ done shoving him in the chest in retaliation for knowing his worst-kept secrets. Louis kicks him out once he realizes they’ve wasted a solid fifteen minutes just kissing each other with the car still running. He drives off with freshly bitten lips and the promise to see Harry bright and early tomorrow morning for class and maybe even afterwards in his office if Harry needs him to _clarify_ anything about the lecture as Harry usually does.

 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever smiled as much as he currently is as he enters his dorm. He runs into Liam and Niall who are both on their way out and he promises to stop by and see them later on since the three of them haven’t been seeing much of each other lately. He almost makes it to his room with his spirits still soaring up in the clouds, but he bumps into Tyler as well.

 

He takes one look at Harry and the giant duffle bag slung over his shoulder and grimaces.

 

“Where have you been all weekend?”

 

Harry keeps his gaze aimed at his doorknob as he fights with his key to unlock it. “Out,” he answers. Harry’s reply comes off just as short and rude as he meant it. He gives a short nod when he gets his door open, resigned to continue ignoring Tyler for the rest of forever.

 

“You’re _seriously_ choosing some perverted professor over me?” he spits.

 

Harry could tell him that Louis is the absolute best person he’s ever known, but it would only make the little stress vein on Tyler’s forehead get even larger. He could also admit that there is not nor has there ever been any contest between the two of them. Harry would choose Louis every time no matter what, but saying that would only be rubbing it in Tyler’s miffed face.

 

Harry lets a big grin spread across his face so Tyler can see exactly how much his opinion of him and Louis doesn’t matter before closing the door like he didn’t say a word.

 

*

 

It’s later that evening when Harry gets back from hanging out with his friends that he flops down on his bed. He grins to himself because he can still smell Louis’ cologne clinging to his sheets even though neither of them have been in this room for days. The scent immediately takes him back to the night before in their hotel room when Louis clung to him with shaky hands and thighs like he was afraid Harry might disappear from beneath him. God, he was so beautiful. He always is, he thinks, remembering the picture he took of Louis on that same night as he lay exhausted, tangled up in their sheets.

 

He takes out his phone and swipes until he finds the last picture he took. It was dim in the room at the time with only the desk lamp on, and even so Harry’s camera was still able to capture how breathtaking he was.

 

It only takes a few seconds of Harry admiring the miniature version of Louis on his phone before he sits down at his desk with his laptop. He rarely does anything to the pictures that he takes. Not even the cool ones he took on a trip to France with his family last year, but this single moment that he’s preserved is like a work of art and deserves special attention.

 

He spends a few minutes putting different filters over it, but they’re all a bit too much for such a soft photo. In the end, he goes with black and white; timeless, beautiful, and so very Louis that Harry can’t believe he didn’t think of it as soon as he sat down.

 

Three quick knocks on his door momentarily break his focus as he continues to play with the different adjustments to make Louis’ skin stand out even more. “Come in,” he says absently, assuming it’s either Liam or Niall bringing him something he forgot in one of their rooms from earlier, but it isn’t. Tyler opens his door instead and his eyes fall right on the screen of his laptop. Harry immediately snaps it shut to turn and face the boy standing in his door.

 

Tyler doesn’t say anything at first, still just standing there staring at Harry and the computer he’s shielding with his arm.

 

“Do you need something?” Harry asks.

 

“Did I let you borrow my Lit book from last semester?” he asks, finally meeting Harry’s eyes again.

 

At first Harry just gawks at him because how dare he ask for anything after how rude he’s been lately, but then Harry remembers that Tyler _did_ in fact let him use his Lit book one time and he forgot to give it back.

 

He walks over to the books he decided to keep from last semester and sees the one that belongs to Tyler squished between two large textbooks that easily hide it. No wonder Harry forgot it existed.

 

He hands it to Tyler and apologizes for keeping it for so long. He raises an expectant eyebrow wondering what else Tyler could possibly need from him when he doesn’t move to leave, but Tyler’s jaw clenches as he mumbles a short thank you. Harry hears the door next to his shut abruptly a few seconds later.

 

Harry goes to sit back down at his desk when he gets a new message. As it turns out, he _did_ leave something behind in Niall’s room. His entire wallet from when they ordered pizza and they all decided that it was somehow Harry’s turn to pay because he’s been gone so much. He rolls his eyes and hurries downstairs when Niall threatens to order a lot more than just two large pepperoni with all the wonderful cash he left behind.

 

It’s much later by the time Harry trudges back upstairs to his room. He had only gone down to retrieve his wallet and somehow ended up sat in front of some movie that Niall claimed was almost over for an entire hour.

 

Harry closes his door behind him and he freezes against it because it feels like someone besides him has been here. He hurries to his desk first thing, knowing that his laptop was the only thing worth targeting in his room since he had his wallet with him the whole time. He breathes a sigh of relief when the screen before him illuminates Louis’ beautiful skin in soft black and white just the way Harry left it before Tyler came asking for his book.

 

He tells himself that just because he left for a little while doesn’t mean someone came in here or stole anything, though it still feels like maybe someone did. It was probably just his roommate whom Harry hasn’t physically seen in almost three weeks. He probably swung by for a moment to get more clean clothes or something or to pick up something for class and figured Harry was close by so he left the door unlocked just like he found it. Harry closes his laptop again, convinced that he was just being paranoid when Tyler was the first person he thought of. They’re not on the best terms right now, but it’s not like he’d do something to hurt him.

 

It’s still early, but the fact that it’s barely even ten doesn’t stop Harry from crawling into bed.

 

He’s exhausted from floating on air for the past three days spent with Louis and trying to stay on top of his coursework as well.

 

A soft vibrating sensation beside him startles him into alertness just as he’s drifting off. He almost doesn’t even check his phone, assuming it’s just Niall being an idiot again, but curiosity forces him to open his eyes, a sleepy grin tugging at his lips when he reads Louis’ name.  ‘ _What are you doing?’_

‘ _Falling asleep. I just laid down_ ,’ Harry replies.

 

Louis sends several shocked emojis back along with the one of the old man. ‘ _Already? I find that quite IRONIC.’_

Harry laughs to himself in the dark _. ‘You know, I’m not entirely convinced you even know what ironic means half of the time you use it.’_

 

‘ _Maybe it means that I’m missing you like crazy even though we just spent the last three days together_...’

 

The way Harry’s stomach flips is enough to chase away the sleep that was just pulling at his eyelids. He has missed Louis from the moment he got out of his car.

 

‘ _Really? You are?’_

 

‘ _Nope_. _I was just being ironic :)’_ Louis sends nearly ten whole minutes later when Harry is just starting to fall asleep again. Prick.

 

Harry uses his last few seconds of consciousness to tell Louis flat-out that he _does_ miss him regardless of what he says, and that it’s okay that he doesn’t know the first thing about irony because Harry will see him in the morning anyway and happily explain it to him for the hundredth time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might hate me, but only for a little while...
> 
>  
> 
> Now, in other less ominous news, I'm so happy that people actually like this story! I've had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you so much for the kudos and feedback on previous chapters! Hope you enjoy the rest <3

‘ _Can’t wait Xx_ ,’ is the message he wakes up to when his roommate loudly enters the room the next morning. Harry didn’t even realize Louis had said anything else to him last night, so he quickly types out a reply saying that he can’t wait either and he’ll see him soon.

 

He drops his phone at his side to rub at his eyes and wave at his roommate when he nods in greeting. Harry rolls out of bed to get ready for the day and only realizes after he’s dressed and ready to leave that his roommate is putting a large amount of clothes into his bag rather than taking them out.

 

“Did you only get to grab a few things last night?” Harry asks as he slips his arms through the straps of his backpack.

 

His roommate’s brow furrows when he stops and he glances over his shoulder at him. “What?”

 

Harry blinks at him with the same look of mild confusion. “Er- Last night…around ten or something. You came by for some of your stuff,” Harry elaborates, but his roommate just continues to look at him like he’s crazy.

 

“I didn’t come by here last night,” he says. “I’ve still been staying at my girlfriend’s. I haven’t been back here for weeks.”

 

And that’s, well, _odd_. Really fucking odd actually, to the point that it’s a slightly unsettling, but Harry doesn’t say so. He doesn’t want his roommate to think he’s even more insane than he clearly already does. Fuck. He was so sure that someone had been in here last night. Maybe he _is_ losing it.

*

 

Music from their weekend trip plays on repeat through Harry’s speakers as he heads over to the fine arts building making his way through the familiar corridors until he arrives at his favorite classroom on the whole campus.

 

He’s a few minutes early as usual. He makes sure to be because he likes to watch Louis hiding his pleased expression from the rest of the class when Harry takes his seat right up front, except today, Harry and most of the class seem to have beaten Louis here.

 

Harry walks into the room bustling with noise and people passing around their phones. He freezes when his peers notice him standing there and the room goes completely still. He doesn’t know what to make of the way everyone is staring, but he feels so self-conscious that his stomach starts rolling with unease.

 

He takes his regular seat despite the weirdness; the one that Louis had added to the room right next to Christine’s since he had taken her spot that first day when she was out sick.

 

No one has looked away from him since he got here and he feels their heavy gazes even more as he sits there on display with his skin heating up. He has no idea what the hell they’re staring at. What’s worse is he has no idea where the hell Louis is. It’s not like him to be running late, especially for class. Especially for _this_ class where he knows Harry is waiting for him.

 

He takes his phone out of his pocket to check the time and see if Louis has texted. There’s no new messages. There’s not even a sarcastic reply to what Harry said to him earlier.

 

 _‘Where are you? Is everything okay? Xx’_ Harry asks and frowns as he pockets his phone again. Something is very wrong here.  He just can’t figure out what. Maybe he should go check Louis’ office and see if he’s in there. Maybe he just lost track of time while prepping for his lecture.

 

He moves to get up and Christine, one of the only people in the room who _isn’t_ smirking at him, notices his distress and places a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him. Her eyes are wide and full of silent apology when she turns her phone around for him see. His stomach drops when her screen is full of nothing but crinkled sex-sheets and Louis’ naked skin captured in timeless black and white just the way he edited it the night before. He snatches the phone out of her hand without even asking and scrolls down. Just as he feared, the other picture of Louis is there too; the one of _both_ of them laying wrapped up together in his dorm room no less.

 

“How-? Where did you get these?” he asks with his heart pounding and his stomach sick.

 

Christine winces like she doesn’t really want to say when Harry gives her the phone back. “Don’t be mad, but a friend sent them to me a few minutes ago,” she eventually explains, “But they’re also all over the university website. They’re everywhere. I don’t know where they came from. I’m so sorry.”

 

Harry knocks over his chair from how quickly he stands. Every pair of eyes in the room watches as he fumbles to pick it up and then darts out of the room, his chest so heavy and tight that he feels like he swallowed a giant bowling ball that somehow got stuck there.

 

He runs straight to Louis’ office, avoiding the judgmental eyes of almost every person he passes. The door is locked when he gets there so he starts beating on it like a crazy person to get Louis to open up.

 

“He isn’t in there!” Emily, his assistant informs him when she and several professors step out of their offices to see what the commotion is. “The chancellor asked to see him,” she says and Harry can feel his face draining of blood. Louis’ about to lose _everything_ because of him.

 

He takes off down the corridor again but doesn’t stop running until he gets outside. The fresh air does nothing to help the way his chest aches. Even people out here are looking at him, laughing at him and offering him sarcastic congratulations as they swipe through their phones. Just knowing that Louis is probably somewhere being gawked at as well makes him want to throw up.

 

It’s about a fifteen-minute walk back to his dorm, but Harry makes it there in almost half the time with how fast his feet carry him. He takes out his phone and feels his heart sink because Louis still hasn’t said anything, but he does have two messages from his best friends hiding under the dozens of messages from numbers he doesn’t even know. The first from Niall, ‘ _What the fuck is going on?,_ ’ and the second from Liam, ‘ _Where are you?_ ’

 

Harry bursts through Liam’s door and finds his friends waiting for him as soon as he gets to the dorm. He starts talking before his brain can even process what it wants to say and the only coherent thing that comes out is, “I don’t know how this happened,” and “He’ll never forgive me.”

 

It takes several minutes, but his friends manage to calm him down enough so he can think straight. When he first saw those pictures he panicked, but now that his friends are talking him through the events that led up to the fallout, he remembers the weirdness of last night when he thought someone had been in his room and then again this morning when his roommate said it wasn’t him.

 

Harry didn’t text Louis’ pictures to anybody. _He didn’t_. He didn’t send them from his computer either but he pulls his laptop out of his backpack upon Niall’s suggestion and checks anyway just to make sure he didn’t somehow share them by accident. Bile rises up from his stomach when he logs into his email and sees that he and Louis have been requested to attend a mandatory hearing with the conduct board of the school. Harry is scared because he has no idea what the hell that means for either of them, but his skin burns with anger when he sees the pictures that he took as the last thing he apparently sent last night as an attachment to none other than his neighbor, _Tyler_.

 

Liam and Niall aren’t quick enough to keep Harry seated when he wrenches open the door and tears his way up the stairs. He pounds on Tyler’s door with his fist but stops when he sees Tyler nervously walking towards him from the bathroom. Harry turns on him immediately, shoving him so hard in the chest that he slams into the opposite wall. “Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve just done, Tyler? What the fuck is wrong with you?

 

Tyler blinks at Harry like he has no idea where this sudden fit of rage is coming from but then he stands up straight, his eyes narrowed right at Harry like he couldn’t care less about how angry or upset he is.

 

“I did it for your own good,” he spits, shoving Harry back in retaliation. “I told you what he’s like but you wouldn’t fucking listen. Everybody knows what he does with his students and now there’s finally proof thanks to you.” He says it so easily like he’s just done Harry a favor by ruining everything. Tyler didn’t do this for him. He did this to get back at him and he wanted to bring Louis down too. Louis, who didn’t deserve any of this regardless of what he did or didn’t do in the past.

 

“Those pictures were private. Those moments were special and they were only supposed to be between me and Louis.”

 

“He’s a professor, Harry. He’s _your_ professor,” he says like his profession and Harry’s lack of one makes this okay when it’s anything but.

 

Harry forcefully runs his hands through his hair, half-ready to rip it out from how much Tyler just doesn’t get it. “WHO FUCKING _CARES_?” Harry screams so loud that silence engulfs the building after his voice booms through the halls. He’s never seen himself so livid. Probably because he’s never cared for anybody the way he cares for Louis and his wellbeing.

 

“I don’t see how this works in your twisted mind, Tyler! You were pissed at me for not wanting to go out with you or fuck you anymore so you did _this_? This isn’t something you can just apologize for later and take back. Saying sorry isn’t going to fix this. This is Louis’ career we’re talking about. This is his fucking _life_.” Harry can’t fathom how Tyler doesn’t see just how much he’s completely fucked everything. He just destroyed their entire world and it probably didn’t even take a full five minutes for him to accomplish.

 

Tyler’s eyes are blank and completely void of emotion as he pushes himself away from the wall  he shrunk into and side-steps him. “Who said I was apologizing?”

 

His words hit Harry like a hard slap in the face.

 

His neighbor spares him a glowering look of pity and disgust before stepping into his room and slamming the door behind him to end their conversation.

 

Harry feels someone grabbing at him when he starts banging on Tyler’s door again. He turns around and sees that it’s just Liam and Niall trying to calm him down. He was so furious just now that he didn’t even realize his friends followed him up here.

 

They get him to agree to going back downstairs to Liam’s room, a safe distance away from Tyler and how much Harry wants to punch him in the face. He grabs his laptop when they get back and opens about a dozen tabs to track all the places that Louis’ pictures have ended up in just a few short hours since they were posted. They really are everywhere just like Christine said however the worst place has to be the university website where Tyler originally posted the pictures as the background of Louis’ professional page with the caption, ‘ _Will give extra credit for a price_.’ Harry has to close the laptop when the continuous barrage of inappropriate comments popping up in the question box near the top makes his stomach turn.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry breathes as he presses the heels of his palms against his eyes to stop the way his head is pounding.

 

“Everything’s going to be ok, Haz. I’m sure there’s a way we can fix this,” Niall tries, but he and everyone in the room knows it’s a lie. This isn’t going to just go away no matter what they do.

 

Harry doesn’t know what to do and on top of that he can’t believe he has to go to that stupid hearing thing with the conduct board. He’s never even heard of something like that before, but whatever it is, it can’t be good, especially since Louis is being summoned as well.

 

“I have to talk to him. He had to go see the chancellor this morning and he still hasn’t said anything. I need to see if he’s okay. I need him to know that it was Tyler and not _me_ who did this to us; to _him_.”

 

Liam and Niall trade wary glances with one another.

 

“Louis knows you would never hurt him, Harry. He may just need some time to process,” Liam assures him. “This couldn’t have been easy for him to wake up to.” _Or_ he may be busy getting fired right at this very moment, but Harry doesn’t say that out loud. He hates even thinking it.

 

Harry leaves his friends once the gravity of everything that’s going on starts weighing heavily on his chest again. He heads up to his room where he collapses onto his bed, the back of his throat stinging with hot, unshed tears.

 

He pulls up Louis’ number even though he’s almost certain that Louis doesn’t want to speak to him. If he did, he would’ve contacted him by now.

 

It goes straight to voicemail without even ringing so Harry figures he must’ve turned his phone off. Harry doesn’t blame him. He’s gotten a barrage of notifications as well, most from people he doesn’t even know but he was so afraid of missing one from Louis that he just let them fill up his inbox and mock him.

 

There’s nothing that Harry can think to say that will actually help either of them in this situation so he hangs up without even leaving a message. Louis will call him when he’s ready. Harry keeps telling himself that. He doesn’t know if it’s actually true.

 

The hours that slowly tick by make this day one of the longest of Harry’s life and he spends it all hiding up in his room. He can’t bring himself to go to any of his classes. He chooses to skip them instead, and all he can picture in his mind is Louis dramatically rolling his eyes and chastising him for falling behind with his work. Liam and Niall check on him and make sure he eats, but besides his best friends, Harry doesn’t see anyone else. He doesn’t want to. The only other person that Harry has any interest in seeing hasn’t said anything to him since last night. God, he can’t believe it was less than twenty-four hours ago that he had smiled, basking in the fact that Louis _missed_ him and had admitted it. He’d give anything to go back.

 

*

 

The next morning feels like the worst hangover Harry’s ever had except his stomach is churning with nerves rather than the residual effects of too much alcohol.

 

He has no idea what to expect from his mandatory meeting with the conduct board so he takes Liam’s advice to at least shower and put on a presentable outfit. It can’t hurt.

 

He walks through campus towards the administration building like a ghost, not even reacting this time when random people whisper behind his back like he can’t hear them. When he arrives, he’s asked to wait in a tiny office by himself.

 

He pulls out his phone for what has to be the hundredth time to check the time and gasps aloud in the quiet room when he sees a text from Louis sent just ten minutes ago.

 

‘ _I’m so sorry I missed your call yesterday. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I turned off my phone. I meant to block out all of the shit that’s happening, but I never meant to hide from you, Haz. I’ve been with Zayn since yesterday trying to figure out how to fix this. I have no idea if I even can, but I don’t want you to worry because I’m going to try. I miss you and I know that it’s worthless now and probably the worst timing in the world, but, I kind of love you too. Yeah, I know. Ironic_. _Xx_ ’

 

A rogue tear threatens to fall onto the screen of his phone and Harry hurries to wipe it away.

 

Louis loves him. He said that saying it now after all that’s happened makes it worthless, but it’s honestly all that matters. At least now, no matter what happens Harry will always have that. He’ll hold onto Louis’ loving him for the rest of his life because he knows it’ll never feel like this with anyone else.

 

He’s escorted to a room on the fourth floor a few minutes later filled with men and women with crisp jackets and high-heels all seated around a large square table. Once again, every pair of eyes in the room are on him as he takes his seat, but the only pair that Harry cares about are the beautiful blue ones that flash up to meet his gaze for only a second before going back to staring at the pair of nervous hands clasped and trembling on top of the table right below them.

 

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Styles. We’d like to begin if you’re ready,” says a woman with long grey hair.

 

“I’m ready,” Harry nods. He takes a deep breath to steady himself when a man sitting near the middle of the table clears his throat to address him.

 

“I’m going to ask you some questions, Mr. Styles. You may find some of them a little difficult to answer. Some of them may even be invasive, but it’s important that you answer as truthfully and honestly as you can.” Harry peeks over at Louis who’s still dutifully staring at his hands. He wishes he could just talk to him for a moment without all of these people here. “Let’s begin,” the man says. “Can you please tell us when and where you met Professor Tomlinson?”

 

The question is so simple and easy that Harry almost smiles. Harry will never forget that day for as long as he lives. How stunning he thought Louis was even as he stared Harry down with that sympathetic, lost puppy expression.

 

“We met in his classroom the day I got added to his class,” he says.

 

Everyone on the board hurries to scribble down his answer like he’s just revealed some huge secret. Honestly, where else would they have met?

 

“And about how long had you known Professor Tomlinson before the two of you became intimate?”

 

Harry glances over at his boyfriend, not sure if he should lie or just tell the truth. The two of them have already been found out. They’re here answering for it right this very second, so there’s really no point in covering up the dirty details of it.

 

“I’m not exactly sure. About an hour? Maybe a little more?” he shrugs. “We were in his office. We’d just left the classroom,” he answers truthfully. He gets several looks of scandal and surprise as members of the board write down what he said.

 

“And I assume that’s where you had intercourse?” the man asks.

 

“Well, no. Not exactly.”

 

The man’s brow furrows at Harry, clearly not receiving the answer he was looking for. “So, you’re saying it was _not_ penetrative sex?” he pushes.

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Harry answers shortly, because why the hell should it matter what kind of sex it was? He answered the fucking question. That should be enough.

 

“So it was oral, then,” the man deduces. “On whom was it performed?”

 

Harry blinks at the man’s intrusive question, a little surprised at just how bold it is. Louis’ cheeks are hot with shame across the table from him and Harry decides right then and there that he’s not going to answer. It’s none of their business.

 

“I’m not comfortable sharing that information. I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

 

The man sighs at him with sympathy. “We’re just trying to understand exactly what happened here, Mr. Styles. Nothing more.” The man reads over his notes for a second before meeting Harry’s gaze again with renewed focus. “On the day that you became intimate, did Professor Tomlinson coerce you into having sex with him?”

 

“No, of course not,” Harry spits. “And he didn’t take advantage of me or force me either if that’s what you’re getting at. It was completely consensual. If anything, _I_ started it.”

 

“Mr. Styles,” the man sighs again. “We just need your cooperation. I’ve already told you, we just need to know how this happened. We are not the bad guys here.”

 

It sure feels like they fucking are. They’re framing their questions to make it sound like he’s the unfortunate victim of some heinous crime when all he and Louis are guilty of is falling for each other.

 

“Let’s move on. The captions of the pictures posted of you and Professor Tomlinson yesterday morning read, ‘ _will give extra credit for a price.’_ Did your professor ever offer to give you higher grades or preferential treatment in class in exchange for sex?”

 

Harry nearly laughs because even the idea of it is preposterous.

 

“Louis has never once given me anything I didn’t earn by myself. He didn’t even give me an extension for my first assignment even though I was added to his class late, which was actually the _university’s_ fault to begin with. I can swear to you that I’ve never received special treatment from him nor has anybody else for that matter. My grades for his class are average at best. I’m treated just like everyone else and you’re acting like he forced me or tricked me into being with him when it couldn’t be further from the truth. Louis is the absolute best professor I’ve ever had. He pushes _all_ of his students and challenges them to be their best every single day which is a lot more than I can say for most of the professors I’ve had here.”

 

His defensive stance causes the room to hum with low whispers. They don’t believe him, or maybe they do, but at this point Harry doesn’t even care. He glances over at Louis who’s still staring down at his hands to avoid everyone’s eyes, but there’s a proud smirk tugging at the corner of his lips from his words that is just so Louis that all Harry wants is to be closer to him.

 

“Lastly, Mr. Styles,” the man says once the board has fallen silent again. “Who took the photos of you and Mr. Tomlinson?”

 

“I did,” he admits easily. “Without his consent. He had no idea so I take full responsibility for that, however I didn’t share them with anyone. Those pictures were my private property and a student named Tyler Hieron entered my dorm room without permission two nights ago and emailed them to himself from my computer. He admitted it when I confronted him. There are witnesses.”

 

Liam, Niall, and about half of the people who live in the building saw what happened.  

 

The board seems just as intrigued by that as Harry’s speech defending Louis. They whisper amongst themselves like this new piece of information that clears Harry of the scandal comes as some kind of revelation. Harry can’t believe they actually thought he would do something like that. Like he’d be that careless and that fucking stupid.

 

“Mr. Tomlinson,” the man says, addressing Louis for the first time. “Do you agree with what Mr. Styles has said about your relationship?”

 

“Yes. What he said is true,” he answers, “However, he didn’t instigate our relationship. It was me. I invited him to my office that day. If anyone should be reprimanded for making sexual advances then I take full responsibility. Also, I knew Harry had taken pictures of us. He did have my consent, so I take responsibly for that as well.”

 

None of that is even remotely true. Harry was the one who busted into Louis’ office and Harry was the one who thought Louis sleeping in his bed was a picturesque moment that he couldn’t pass up. Harry wants to tell the board that but Louis keeps talking, now reading from the piece of paper laid out before him.

 

“I’d like to take this time to formally apologize,” he begins. “My careless actions have jeopardized my career, my job, and my good standing with the university. I accept any and all consequences for my reckless behavior and my lack of judgment. I have hurt the university’s reputation as well as my own and that of my student, Harry Styles. Even though there is no written rule outright forbidding professors from becoming romantically involved with their students in the university’s code of conduct, there _is_ a rule that clearly defines professionalism so I know that the nature of our relationship is unacceptable and it reflects poorly upon my character. In an attempt to fix my mistakes, I have stopped all communication with said student. I have also sought out the help of a therapist who specializes in treating sex addiction in hopes of improving my mental health so that I can make better choices and decisions in the future should this board allow me to keep my position as a professor here.”

 

Hearing Louis speak about them like that, so mechanical and unfeeling is like someone reaching into his chest to rip out his heart. And _sex addiction_? It’s the most outrageous thing Harry’s ever heard. Louis enjoys being loved and having sex just as much as everyone else in the world. That doesn’t make him a fucking addict. It makes him _human_.

 

“I think seeing a therapist for your specific addiction is a good idea,” the man says sounding truly pleased to hear that. “It’s my understanding that this is not your first time being rumored to have slept with your students.”

 

Louis gives a very reluctant nod even though his eyes show how much he doesn’t want to agree. Harry can see him shrinking in on himself the longer the board stares at him.

 

“You were rumored to have slept with six students who have all since graduated or left the university. Those rumors were investigated however their stories didn’t quite match up and there was no proof of their claims. Is that correct?”

 

They want him to admit that what those students bragged about, something that never even happened, was actually true and it sickens Harry.

 

“As I’ve said,” Louis whispers with downcast eyes. “I’ve already sought out professional help.” It’s not a definitive answer but it might as well be from how quickly the board members start whispering again like he’s some sexual deviant sitting before them. The board finishes writing down Louis’ words, flashing him hard looks of judgment that make Harry want to punch each and every one of them for believing it for even a second.

 

“Mr. Tomlinson. The board will deliberate and let you know of our decision concerning your position here at the university. And Mr. Styles, we’ll contact you concerning your credit hours for Mr. Tomlinson’s class as well as what you said about the person who supposedly shared these photos. Good luck with your treatment, Mr. Tomlinson. Please let us know when you’ve begun sessions.”

 

*

 

They get dismissed a few minutes later and Louis wordlessly flies out of the room. Harry tears through the building and catches up to him once they’re outside.

 

“Louis. Hey, wait. Slow down.”

 

Louis pulls his arm out of Harry’s grip and keeps walking towards his car.

 

“Don’t,” he chokes out through heavy tears. “They’re probably watching us from the fucking window.” His entire face is wet and broken and it physically hurts Harry to see him this way.

 

“Lou.” Harry cups his face and gently smoothes his thumb over his tears. Louis’ eyelids flutter closed at the touch like he’s been longing for it, but he regretfully turns his face away to glance up at the window of the room they just left.

 

“We can’t talk here, Harry. I’m so sorry. I’ve got to go,” he says, discreetly taking Harry’s hand in his and giving it a light squeeze. Harry’s heart hammers in his chest from how final his words sound.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Home,” he says like he can’t wait to get there even though it’ll just be to wait and see what the board decides. “I’m sorry, I just- I can’t be here right now. I need to leave,” he sniffs.

 

“Okay. Go,” Harry urges him. “I’ll meet you there in a little while,” he promises. He watches his boyfriend nod in relief and then scurry off in the direction of his car again. “And, Lou?” he says before he gets too far away. “I love you too,” he calls without caring if the board members or the entire world just heard him admit it.

 

“I know. I know you do,” Louis says through a watery smile. He hesitates for a moment, looking at Harry like he wants nothing more than to touch him. He gets in on the driver’s side of his car and speeds away from campus instead like he can’t get away from it fast enough; like he might do something stupid if he stays there a second longer. His boyfriend loves him and Harry’s heart has never felt so full which is why he finds it funny that he feels so empty right now, like Louis just took every piece of his heart with him _. Ironic_.

 

*

He returns to his dorm to change clothes and pick up a few things he needs. He stops off to see Liam and Niall to tell them how much he wanted to scream during that meeting because it seemed like nobody in that room was on Louis’ side except him. He heads up to the second floor, glancing up when someone bumps into him in passing nearly knocking Harry over into the wall. He meets Tyler’s blistering eyes and realizes at once that the shove wasn’t accidental in the slightest, his expression full of anger, resentment, and betrayal as he storms out of the building, probably on his way to his own conduct board meeting. Good.

 

Harry’s _glad_ he’s being summoned so quickly. He hopes they make Tyler feel small and stupid, and pathetic for doing something so horrible. Most of all, he’s happy because he knows that Tyler won’t have a Louis there with him. He’ll be completely alone in this and that makes Harry feel way better than it probably should.

 

His phone vibrates with a text from Louis just as he’s trading his respectable outfit for something a lot more comfortable.

 

‘ _Are you still coming over?’_

 

Harry starts walking as soon as he reads it, throwing on the first pair of jeans he sees and an old t-shirt that’s been living on the floor of his dorm room for weeks because what he’s wearing at the moment doesn’t matter. Louis needs him, and besides that, he has plenty of clean, comfy clothes to choose from in the middle drawer of Louis’ wardrobe that may as well have Harry’s name carved on the front from how much of his stuff is crammed into it.

 

‘ _I’m on the way_. _Be there soonXx_.’

 

*

 

Zayn greets him at the door when Harry knocks twice before waltzing on in just like always.

 

“You might as well just have a key at this point, mate,” he teases. “You should run it by the boyfriend. See what he thinks.”

 

A key to Louis’ house. He shrugs so he doesn’t seem quite as giddy about that as he feels. “Yeah, maybe,” Harry smiles, realizes that it’s the first time he’s done that in over two days. “Where is he?”

 

“In his room. He was a mess when he got back. I made him take a shower. _Alone_ , don’t worry,” Zayn assures him with smirk. Harry smiles again remembering how much he loathed Zayn and wanted to trip him down the steps as he left Louis’ house the night that they met, but he’s so grateful for him now. He’s glad that Louis has someone like Zayn in his life to be there when he can’t.

 

“Thanks for looking out for him these past couple of days. I’m really glad you were here.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be sending you and Lou my bill for helping you both get out of this mess. I accept cash, cards, gifts, and top shelf booze. My birthday’s coming up in a couple weeks and I expect no less than pure extravagance.”

 

“All that for being a good friend?” Harry laughs.

 

“Of course not, mate. All of that for being a damn good lawyer,” he winks before wrapping Harry in a one-armed hug.

 

Harry watches him leave and get into his car, amazed that he never noticed how nice it is before this moment. Harry had always just assumed that Zayn was some kind of teacher or professor too, just at a different school.

 

Harry toes off his shoes at the front door and throws the lock while he’s at it assuming Louis isn’t expecting anyone else besides him. He turns around to go find his boyfriend, pausing and smiling to himself when Louis creeps out of his room with shower-damp hair dressed in his softest and most beloved t-shirt which he pulled right from the middle drawer. _Harry’s_ drawer.

 

“I just wanted to make sure it was you and not someone else,” he explains from where he’s leaning against the wooden frame of his door. Harry starts walking in that direction like he’s being pulled by a tether that leads right to him. Right where he should be.

 

“You mean someone like a psychopathic burglar slash murderer?” he teases.

 

“Or just a regular burglar slash murderer because those do exist,” Louis quips right back, and it feels so good to be back here in their little bubble where no one gets a say in how much faster Harry’s heart is beating just being near him. Where no one gets to think that their love is wrong even though he and Louis don’t give a shit. Their relationship is slightly unusual, Harry can admit that, however it isn’t unheard of. It’s frowned upon especially in a setting such as the university’s, but like Louis pointed out in their meeting, it isn’t forbidden. They are two consenting adults who make their own decisions. People can think what they want, but no one can force them to separate if they don’t want to.

 

Harry leans his shoulder against the opposite side of the threshold when Louis lets out a small sigh. He looks exhausted, and the puffiness around his eyes from the obvious crying he did earlier only makes him look even more beat. According to Liam and Niall, Harry doesn’t look much better. They could honestly both do for a week-long nap. Harry would be just fine blowing off the rest of forever to lie in bed with him.

 

“You never told me Zayn was a lawyer,” he grins, using his thumb to swipe along the apples of Louis’ cheeks which are still a bit pink from before.

 

“Really? I always thought you knew I was just joking when I said he was a runway model by day and a call girl by night.” Harry _did_ think he was joking, well _mostly_ joking, that is. He didn’t realize that meant that Zayn really had an awesome job that could potentially help them in the event of shit hitting the fan.

 

“I panicked when I got called in to see the chancellor,” Louis continues after a long silence. “The way he was talking it- it _sounded_ like I was going to lose my job and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say or what _not_  to say so I called Z because he always knows what to do when I don’t. He always has,” Louis sighs again, his eyes trained on the ground.

 

When Louis had said he was with Zayn trying to ‘figure out how to fix things’, Harry had pictured Louis furiously coming up with plans to get them both out of this situation unscathed. He figured Zayn was just there for moral support. He had no idea that Zayn was the one making the amends.

 

“So, that’s where all that formal apology stuff ( _lies_ ) came from,” he realizes, “But _sex addiction_ , Lou? Come on.” Harry doesn’t mean to push, but he can’t help it. It’s a complete fabrication.

 

“I know,” he says with a furrowed brow that looks just as troubled as Harry’s probably does. “I had to. Zayn says I can’t be fired due to mental health concerns as long I’m being treated and can prove that I’m in recovery. It’s not recognized as a real mental disorder, but it _is_ recognized as something that’s treatable through therapy and it’s a plausible excuse in my case, so.”

 

“But, Louis,” he says, caressing his warm cheek again, “You’re not even really a sex addict. Any therapist would be able to see that.”

 

“Well, yeah, probably,” he agrees softly, “But that’s why I better get really good at pretending to be for this woman I have to start seeing in a couple of days,” he shrugs. “I won’t even have to fake most of it. There are enough rumors about me to back the claim. There’s no way she’ll suspect that I’m lying,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh that makes Harry’s heart ache for him. He doesn’t deserve any of this and Harry can’t help but feel like it’s all his fault.

 

“Louis, I am _so_ sorry that this happened. It’s fucked up. It’s not fair for you to have to go through all of this.” It’s not fair that Louis is being viewed as the bad guy in the situation simply because of his age and position when Harry is just as much at fault here. “I wish I could do something to take the heat off of you. If I could I’d go back in time and tell myself not to take those pictures of you. I didn’t know they’d fuck everything up like this,” he apologizes.

 

“No, it’s okay,” Louis shushes him. “I don’t mind them coming after me, love. You’re more than worth the trouble,” he says with a soft smile that brightens his entire face.

 

“Really? You don’t regret not kicking me out of your class the moment I walked in?”

 

“Not one bit,” he says with complete sincerity. “And… if I’m going to have a picture floating around of me half-naked like that at least it’s one as awesome as the one you took. Even Zayn with all of his other-worldliness was impressed. I swear to you, my arse has _never_ looked better. You captured pure fucking magic.”

 

Harry cackles at that. He genuinely laughs and it’s the best feeling.

 

“You really were a work of art that night. You were incredible,” he smiles. “Black and white fits you well.”

 

“Yeah, but I think you fit me even better.”

 

Harry couldn’t agree more when their lips meet, warm and familiar and even more perfect than Harry remembers from just days ago. He takes back what he said about laughing being the best feeling, because nothing could ever come close to this.

 

*

  

It takes most of the day for the board to finally make a decision about what to do with them. Louis woke up from their day-nap around six o’clock that evening to find an email sitting in his inbox that instantly calms their worries, because thankfully, Louis isn’t being fired. He’s being made to take a leave of absence though while he gets started with his treatment, but he can come back as soon as his therapist says he’s making progress. Louis is so happy to know that his life isn’t ruined that he calls Zayn immediately after reading the good news to thank him about a million times for being the best super-human model/lawyer that a person could ask for.

 

Harry laughs at that as he pulls up his own email and finds a similar message in his inbox. His smile fades when he starts reading because his news isn’t quite so joyful.

 

They got Tyler to admit to stealing the photos from Harry’s computer as well as hacking into the university site to post them online without permission, so Harry is off the hook in that regard. Tyler hasn’t been kicked out of school, but he is on academic probation for the next year and has been mandated to seek counseling.

 

Harry’s standing with the university is just fine and nobody wants him to seek professional help which is also good. The only part that he hates about this is that he’s no longer going to be taking Louis’ class.

 

Louis is just telling Zayn how epic of a birthday party he’s going to throw him for being so wonderful when he glances over at Harry and his bright eyes lose a bit of their sparkle. He puts his hand over the receiver as Zayn continues listing off all of his outrageous party and gift demands.

 

“What’s wrong? What did they say?”

 

“Nothing,” Harry sighs as he shuts the laptop, placing it on the bedside table. “Everything’s fine. I’m not in trouble or anything, it’s just…they’re removing me from your class on Monday. They said it isn’t fair to the other students if I stay.”

 

Understanding dawns on Louis face as he drops his hand from the receiver to Harry’s thigh instead as a comforting weight.

 

“Z, I have to go. I’ll call you back. Yeah, mate. Thanks again.” He hangs up and places the phone on top of the laptop on the bedside table. He turns to Harry when he’s done to give him his full attention. Louis takes his hand in his and it makes Harry feel marginally better, but not really. Louis’ class has been his absolute favorite all semester. He’s never been more driven or worked harder for something or someone in his entire school career and now it’s over?

 

“What are they placing you in instead?”

 

“Same course, but with a different professor. Apparently there’s only one other person who teaches contemporary… a Dr. M. Saunders.”

 

“Yeah. She does. Her class is in the evening,” Louis says with his gaze fixed on their hands when he links them even tighter together. “She’s really nice, Haz. You’ll like her. She’s a great professor.”

 

Harry doesn’t know a single thing about this woman and he really doesn’t care to if he’s honest.

 

“She’s not you,” he whispers.

 

Harry watches as a slow grin pulls at Louis’ lips as he tries to bite down on it, clearly flattered by Harry’s high opinion of him.

 

“Well, everyone can’t be me, love. And, who knows? Maybe now you’ll actually be able to focus in class and learn something useful for a change.”

 

“I focus when you teach,” Harry argues, though it’s a weak argument at best.

 

Louis fondly rolls his eyes. “Yeah, on my arse,” he laughs.

 

Harry has learned _plenty_ sitting right up front; from the way Louis shifts his weight and gently pops his hip when he goes off on a long tangent to the way his eyes crinkle up with pride when one of his students argues their point so well that Louis has no other choice but to smile and nod in agreement, _especially_ when that student is Harry.

 

“You’re going to be great. Dr. Saunders is going to like you,” Louis assures him. Harry nods, because technically all of his professors like him. He’s a good student and he works hard, but the fact still remains that contemporary art and Louis are now forever associated in Harry’s mind as the perfect combination and that simply is never going to change.

 

“I’ll still wish I was with you,” he admits.

 

“Well, I’ll be just down the corridor from you after my therapist assures the university that I’m not going to fuck everything with a pulse,” he chuckles darkly. “…Maybe you can even stop by my office some days. You know, if you need anything from Dr. Saunders’ class to be _clarified_ for old time’s sake,” Louis says with that glimmer of mischief in his eyes that Harry has come to love just as much as Louis himself. “I know you’re not going to be _my_ student anymore, per se, but I could still maybe be of some use,” he smirks.

 

“That’s very true,” Harry nods. “I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures. Maybe we can even make a sex tape. Go all out this time.”

 

Louis gives his body a once over like he can just imagine it. Harry sure can.

 

“You shouldn’t joke about such things with an addict, you know. I might actually take it to heart,” he teases.

 

Harry smiles into the hot kiss that he presses against Louis’ mouth. “Who says I was joking?”

 

 

*

 

Two Years Later

 

 

Harry wakes up on the morning of graduation with a content sigh. There’s a familiar, warm weight straddled over his hips, and a light, tickly feeling fanning out over his chest from someone tracing good morning across it with their finger.

 

He smiles at the feeling and blindly reaches out for Louis to pull him down into a sleepy kiss. Well, he _tries_ to do that anyway, however, his arms don’t actually _move_ when his brain tells them to.

 

His eyes spring open in alarm and the first thing he realizes after the fact that his dick is hard and perfectly nestled between each of Louis’ perfect arse cheeks, is that his arms aren’t going anywhere because his wrists have been bound together and tied to the headboard of their bed. Harry blinks at Louis and then tilts his head back to squint at his wrists, arousal quickly swirling through his abdomen when he recognizes the mysterious thin rope holding him in place as his Magna Cum Laude cord he was given when he picked up his cap and gown.

 

“You tied me to the bed with my honors cord? _Fuck_ , I love you. That’s so hot,” Harry moans.

 

He got that cord through a lot of hard work, sweat, and near-tears on the nights that he wanted to do literally anything else besides study and worry about his stupid grade point average. After Tyler fucked them both over and Harry was placed into Dr. Saunder’s class to finish out his semester of contemporary, Harry had pretty much given up on the class altogether. He didn’t actually care about art before Louis was his professor, but over time, he had developed a small appreciation for it. He doesn’t particularly care much for art now either, but that’s okay because Louis taught him more important things; life lessons like never giving up and always pushing himself to be his very best.

 

Harry had treated his new class as a joke for exactly one whole lecture before he felt so guilty throwing away everything he’d worked for that he came back next class ready to give his all just like he would if it were Louis himself standing before him. It was a bit of a rocky start being held responsible for a class he didn’t even need again, but in the end Harry had pulled himself together enough to be considered one of Dr. Saunder’s best and most devoted students. Devoted enough to receive the golden cord that has been expertly weaved and knotted to make it impossible for him to move.

 

 

“Of course I did, babe,” Louis says against the shell of Harry’s ear. “What else would you expect from a recovering sex addict?” he chuckles, grinding down on Harry’s lap, sending sparks shooting through his body. And, fuck. He’s definitely awake now. Harry doesn’t even point out for the millionth time that he’s not a sex addict, recovering or otherwise. He just lies there and takes it when Louis leans forward to lick into his mouth. His dick reacts immediately, hardening up so fast that it’s heavy where it’s still lying flat in the most phenomenal place in the world.

 

Louis pushes himself away from him a minute later. He crawls off of Harry’s lap and over the edge of the bed and Harry feels like he may die from the loss of contact, wishing he could just follow Louis to wherever he’s going.

 

He gets a view of Louis’ perfect body, wanting nothing more than to squeeze his arse and suck love bites into the chubby bits of his thighs that Louis hates because they gently brush together when he walks. Louis calls it a flaw, but if so, it’s the hottest flaw Harry’s ever seen. It’s one of his favorite things about him.

 

Louis bends over slowly to grab the lube from their bedside drawer and Harry’s eyes are glued to him, unblinking like missing even a millisecond of the show he’s being given is unacceptable.

 

He comes back over to the bed and gingerly settles himself over Harry’s lap again with great confidence, just like the first night that they ever slept together and Louis explained to Harry in explicitly arousing detail, precisely the way in which he wanted to be fucked. Harry holds his breath watching as Louis opens the lube and then lifts up on his knees to slip his fingers inside of himself one by one. Louis places a warm palm on Harry’s chest to steady himself, his head thrown back as he begins working his fingers into his body, his breath catching each time he brushes along a sensitive spot.

 

“You’re so beautiful. So _amazing_ ,” Harry tells him, watching Louis’ skin flush even more than it already was.

 

Harry has had the great pleasure of appreciating his boyfriend’s beauty like this for years now. He’s spent almost every night by his side, admiring his lips and smile and teasing him about his impossibly long eyelashes that most women would kill for. It was a night just like that when Harry was so comfortable in bed that he didn’t want to leave Louis’ house, complaining because he hated going back to his dorm room without him and he hated Tyler living right next to him even more. Louis had let him rant for a whole ten minutes before nervously linking their hands together with, ‘ _Why don’t you just stay with me, then. You basically do anyway_ ,’ and it was as simple as that.

 

Now, Tyler isn’t even a topic of discussion for them. Mostly because soon after that night Tyler was asked to withdraw himself from the university because he continued to refuse to go to counseling like the conduct board had originally said. Tyler left and it was like all of his and Louis’ problems went right along with him leaving them in this carefree, happy version of their relationship where Louis wakes him up with a kiss every morning (or wild sex, but that’s only for special occasions), they spend _every_ Sunday in bed until noon no matter what, and now when they’re out together and Harry wants to hold his boyfriend’s hand, he fucking _does it_ and then spends the next ten minutes loudly singing The Beatles without a care in the world simply because he can _._

 

His honors cord digs into his skin as he tries in vain to touch Louis, to help him like he usually does and it’s like the sweetest torture having Louis right there in front of him, and yet out of reach. He’s so hard that it’s almost painful to watch Louis easing his fingers out of himself.

 

Harry sucks in a sharp breath when Louis wraps a hand around him to hold him steady. There’s no teasing involved today, probably because they don’t have the time. He guides Harry right to his opening and everything that happens directly after that is lost on him because all he can feel is Louis’ tight heat sliding down around him.

 

A deep moan fills the room when Louis rolls his hips and it takes Harry a second to realize that the desperate sound is coming from his own mouth.

 

“Feel good?” Louis grins even though he can clearly see the effect he’s having.

 

Harry nods, basking in the slow grinding rhythm that Louis has chosen. It feels spectacular, but even so it’s not nearly enough. Harry moves to push Louis back on the bed and fuck him at a much faster pace…until remembers the giant headboard connected to him, preventing him doing anything at all except lying there and taking it.

 

“What do you want me to do, love? Tell me,” Louis breathes against his neck. Harry’s pulse kicks up another few beats, because if _that’s_ the game that Louis wants to play then he is all for it.

 

“Could you move a little faster for me?” Harry asks, and to his delight Louis picks up the pace, though his movements are still rather shallow. “Take me deeper,” Harry says, moaning aloud again when Louis doesn’t hesitate to sink down even lower.

 

Louis connects their mouths, breathing hotly down his throat as he works. Harry’s arms and shoulders ache from being in such an unusual position for so long, but he likes the fact that he’s restrained this way; that the small amount of control he has right now is only possible because Louis is allowing him to have it.

 

Harry’s getting everything he needs at the moment from Louis doubling his efforts, but somehow it’s still not enough. It never is when it comes to him and Louis. Harry always wants more and right now his body is screaming at him to take it.

 

He digs the heels of his feet into the mattress for the leverage to thrust up. It’s hard because he can’t use most of his upper body to counteract the weight, but he’s able to wedge himself deep enough to find Louis’ spot.

 

“Fuck, Haz,” he gasps, his thighs trembling a bit from the impact. He resumes his pace, but it’s nowhere near as smooth as it had been. He’s falling apart on top of him, his composure cracking a little more each time Harry thrusts upwards. He’s red in the face and sweating a bit just at his temples as he digs his nails into Harry’s skin. It’s obvious that he’s close. Harry is too, but he wants to get them there and be able to touch Louis with his hands when he comes.

 

“Untie me,” he says, when that white-hot sensation in the pit of his stomach starts moving downward.

 

Louis reaches up with one hand and tugs at the ends of the cord until it comes loose. Harry sits up as soon as he’s free, the blood rushing back to his arms to give them feeling again. He wastes no time grabbing Louis around the waist and tossing him onto his back.

 

They land somewhere at the foot of the bed as Louis clings to him, gasping to try and catch his breath when Harry resumes their previous rhythm without missing a beat. And that’s where they stay, mouth to mouth and hardly even breathing until it’s too much and they’re both spilling; Louis between their stomachs and Harry where he’s wedged deep inside of him.

 

Harry takes several deep breaths to steady himself after pulling out of his boyfriend and then yawns, laughing because he’s exhausted even though he technically just woke up. Harry didn’t expect any of this to happen when he went to sleep last night. He should graduate more often.

 

“Can we start every day like that from now on?” he asks.

 

“We could, but it wouldn’t be nearly as mind blowing if we did it _every_ day,” Louis grins. “That’s why light bdsm is only reserved for special occasions like graduation and Christmas.”

 

Harry hums to himself remembering the first Christmas they spent together when he got to tie Louis’ hands behind his back with thick holiday ribbon; a beyond brilliant idea stolen from one of the people in Louis’ sex addicts group that he used to go to along with many others they’ve tested out here and there.

 

“Today is a special occasion because I’m so proud of you,” Louis whispers. His face and chest are still a bit pink. He looks like he could possibly drift off to sleep again if time would allow it, and yet Harry still finds him gorgeous. Harry’s slowing heartbeat picks up again when Louis kisses him. He’s been telling everyone who will listen about how proud he is of Harry and what he’s achieved, but nothing is better than when Harry hears it straight from him.

 

“I love you and I couldn’t have made it here without you,” Harry assures him, because if nothing else, he needs Louis to know that.

 

*

 

Harry quickly tugs the sleeve of his gown down over his left wrist when his mother squints to get a better look at the irritated red ring around it.

 

“What _is_ that? What happened to you?” she asks, making a grab for him like she used to do to his face when was a kid with chocolate all over it.

 

Her question catches Louis’ attention and throws him into a random coughing fit where he’s standing with the rest of Harry’s family just out of the frame of his mother’s camera.

 

“It’s nothing. I burned myself,” Harry lies, yanking his arm out of her reach. She rolls her eyes at him, annoyed that he won’t let her fuss over him, resorting to fixing the cap on his head and adjusting the bright, golden cord draped around his neck; the very one that put the angry looking marks on his skin, not that Harry minded one bit. He spent half of the ceremony smiling and playing with the tasseled ends of it. Everyone probably just assumed he was happy to be graduating when really he was daydreaming about Louis.

 

“You got burned in a perfect circle?” his sister asks in a disbelieving tone that sounds a lot like she’s calling bullshit. Everyone glances at Louis who clears his throat and looks completely innocent aside from the impish smirk tugging at his lips. His family looks between he and Louis with curiosity, trying to see whatever Gemma sees that has her smirking as well.

 

“Alright, Mum! It’s time to take the picture. Like, _right now_ ,” Harry urges as he strikes a pose with his diploma. He just became an official adult-adult like twenty minutes ago. He does not want to spend his first few minutes of his new life chapter explaining why his shoulders feel like he spent ten hours in the gym and why his honor cord isn’t hanging as flat and even as everyone else’s.

 

Louis sneaks away from the ranks of Harry’s family just as he’s tugging off the gown that he has been absolutely roasting beneath since he put it on.

 

“I’d sure like to see the oven responsible for doing this,” he laughs pressing a kiss to the small portion of his wrist that’s exposed from his shirt sleeve riding up. Harry grins because it tickles a bit from how sensitive his skin is at the moment.

 

“Take a look in the mirror,” Harry says as he holds up his other wrist so Louis can kiss that one as well. After all, this is technically his fault.

 

Louis fondly rolls his eyes at him. “You big baby,” he chuckles as he obliges, his breaths tickling just as much as his lips this time.

 

“Am not,” Harry says petulantly, basically proving Louis’ point. “See this?” Harry opens the cover of his diploma and practically shoves it in his boyfriend’s face. “ _This_ declares that today, I am an official adult. An _adult_ -adult. Like, one who has a mortgage and house plants and other adult-like shit,” he explains after Louis mutters under his breath that Harry’s been of age for _years_.

 

“Don’t you think you might need a _job_ to go with this fabulous new adult life of yours?” his big sister teases from where she’s snapping candid photos of him and Louis like some kind of annoying pap.

 

“Yes. That’s why it’s on my to-do list for _tomorrow_.” Tomorrow when he’ll go in for his final interview to be an editor for a publishing company here in this city just twenty minutes away. It’s entry level and not something he sees himself doing for more than a couple of years, but he’s excited about getting started and being lucky enough to potentially land his first job the day after he graduates.

 

Apparently his achievements in school made him a good candidate for the job, but according to his interviewer, his letters of recommendation were what put him ahead of everyone else who applied; surprisingly enough, the one written by a Professor L. Tomlinson, an _art_ professor of all things, made him shine and stand out the most.

 

“I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be great tomorrow. I just know it.” Louis lifts up on his toes to rest his arms around his shoulders, his eyes holding all of the confidence he has for him. Harry has a pretty good feeling about his interview too, but he’s still slightly nervous to really be starting his life. Starting _their_ life, as crazy as that is to think.

 

“Mmmm,” Harry hums. “Do you think I’ll be great enough to get another _special_ wake up call in the morning for good luck?” he whispers so his family can’t hear.

 

“I think I’d much rather congratulate you and give you something special _after_ you’ve been hired. We’ve never had ‘ _you got the job’_ sex _,_ but it’s bound to be just as good as graduation sex,” he smirks.

 

“You really think I’ll get it?” Harry thinks he has a pretty good chance, but Louis, he has been certain about it since day one.

 

“I told you before, love. You’re going to have it all. You’re going to get it _right_.”

 

“With you?” Harry smiles, remembering that night at the hotel and how terrified Louis had been to even dream that they could potentially make it here together when Harry could see it clear as day.

 

“Yeah, love. With me,” Louis confirms just as their lips meet.

 

 

 

 

The End

 

***


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